Abrasions
by lmh
Summary: Change is inevitable, but when a person changes for the worse, what can one do? Teru Mikami as seen through the eyes of another, his wife. Watch the man change into a god. Now a multi-chapter story. MikamiOC, SPOILERS.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not making any profit off of this.

**AN**: After rabidly reading Death Note, I quickly latched on to Teru Mikami as my favorite character of the series. I wanted to experiment with the idea of a Mikami who used to hold faith in not only God, but also the people he let in his life. In this case a character I made up, his wife. It takes place after Mikami received the deathnote, and after Kyomi Takada became the spokesperson for KIRA, but before Mikami's death, otherwise I couldn't write this...ha.

I've used Japanese words, because I just can't think of a short, accurate English translation. So I have included a glossary at the end.

This is written as a one-shot, but if there is demand, I will make it a multi-chapter story, but it will take a while, because I am finishing up another story and halfway through another yet to be posted. So read, enjoy, tell me what you think. Please inform me of any typos.

**Abrasions**

by lmh

* * *

abrasion: **1 a** a wearing, grinding, or rubbing away by friction (Merriam-Webster English Dictionary).

* * *

Moemi sighed to herself as she fingered the laundry. Everything was still damp, of course. Nothing would dry quickly in this weather. It was nearing December, her constant need for a sweater reminded her of that daily. The sweater reminded her of her condition, not that she could possibly forget that. 

Nothing fit her anymore. She had been rather late on the uptake, and only managed to buy a few maternity items. Teru's sweaters were the only things that wrapped all the way around her.

The wind picked up, forcing her back into the apartment. She gently closed the balcony door behind her and walked into the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around her belly, she stared blankly at the refrigerator. Somewhere in the background she heard the noise of the early evening news on the television.

As she reached for the handle, she remembered that she hadn't been to the supermarket yet. Opening the fridge, she saw that there wasn't much to make a dinner for two, no, three.

Her eyes wandered to the wall clock above the garbage, it was already five thirty. Definitely not enough time to go out and shop. If he wasn't putting in overtime tonight, Teru would be home soon.

He would be home soon, she repeated to herself.

There would be no time for her to shop, she wouldn't even leave if she had time, she thought.

She slowly came out of her daze and realized her hand had slipped up to the dark spot on her cheek. Pressing lightly, she winced. She didn't need to look in the mirror to know there was a bruise there. Oh yes, she thought, this is why I can't go out. If any of her friends saw the bruise, they would know immediately. It was just the sort of thing that didn't need an explanation.

Closing the refrigerator, she decided that she would have to order in. Sushi would be fine, she thought. There was plenty of rice available, so she didn't have to worry about that, and she was sure that she could put together a simple salad.

Then she vaguely wondered if he would actually eat any of it.

Of course he would, she thought as she moved to the phone. He always ate whatever she gave him, no complaints. She had no actual idea of what his favorite foods were, he seemed to like everything. Well, except for sweets, but she could only tell when he crinkled his nose the tiniest bit. She smiled at the thought.

But it soon turned bitter on her mouth. Where had all those feelings gone?

She placed her order with quick dispatch. It was something that she was doing a lot lately. She was just too tired to leave the apartment. There were so many things getting her down.

After tossing a light salad and putting the rice on, she went and sat in front of the television to wait for the sushi to arrive. She sighed again, realizing that all she ever did anymore was wait. Wait for sushi to be delivered, wait for Teru to come home, wait for her baby to be born. Their baby, she corrected.

She never thought that the life of a housewife would be so lacking.

But then again, when she married Teru, everything was different. She never thought that…

Her hand found its way to the bruise again. It was like something out of the daytime dramas she glanced at everyday. She knew these sort of things happened all the time, but not to her, until it did happen.

She couldn't say that he wouldn't do such a thing, but he would never do it to her. He had always protected her, fiercely sometimes.

But then again, ever since the day she laid eyes on him, she could see something there. It was subtle and he barely let it show, but she could see it.

At first it was the way he held himself, the way he walked and talked. It was a dark intellect and a detachment from the world. He didn't go out of his way to talk to people, but he never refused someone if they wanted to make friends. He tolerated everyone and everything as if it was all temporary, and he had only a little more time until…he could do something.

It intrigued her, drew her to him. Then she saw what it really was.

It was in his eyes. A deep, searing hatred hid behind them. He veiled it very well, but she could see the intense contempt he held for everything around him.

Maybe that's what drew her to him, in some twisted way. He scared the shit out of her, but she always found herself liking him more. Maybe that's why he accepted her. She was special, she got it.

However, she wanted to know what had changed between now and then.

He was more confident now. The things that came out of his mouth were bizarre and eerily frightening at times. He was not the man she married.

She hadn't realized that she dozed off until she heard the front door open.

"I'm home," she heard his faint voice from the _genkan_. She involuntarily tensed.

Shaking it from her, she forced herself off the sofa to greet him. A chill came over her shoulders and reached her cheeks as she wondered if it would happen again.

She walked from the living room through the hallway to see him standing in the _genkan_, taking off his coat. He was wearing the pinstriped suit today, she noticed with a frown. He almost always wore plain black suits. He deposited his umbrella in the large ceramic potter before moving to take off his shoes.

"Welcome home," she said automatically. She stole a quick glance at his face, for anything, but of course he wasn't letting anything show.

She stepped into a pair of slippers and joined him in the _genkan_. Her hands and mouth moved without her having to think.

"How was work," she heard herself say.

Her hands moved up around his shoulders to help him with his coat. She gently slid it off and folded it over her forearm.

"Fine," he said, no more, no less.

She felt something go off inside her head. Of course it was normal for husbands and wives not to share the details of their daily exploits with each other, but Teru was different. He always shared little tidbits of his cases with her.

But things were different now, she thought. They were forever changed because of him.

"What's for dinner?" he asked as he picked up his briefcase and made his way past her.

"I didn't know what to do, there wasn't much in the fridge, so I just ordered sushi," she replied and paused as he turned to look at her. Their eyes met for the first time today. "Is that all right?" she asked, wondering why she felt afraid that he would suddenly develop a dislike for sushi.

He shook his head. "It's fine," he said. Examining her closer, he frowned. She didn't need to look at him to know that he was staring at the bruise. "You didn't go shopping today?"

She shook her head. She almost said, I couldn't go out, but did some quick thinking. "I just didn't have the energy," she said instead.

His gaze slowly moved to her abdomen, which began to feel uncomfortable with his staring. She put her hand over her stomach, almost protectively, as if she was trying to shield the unborn child from…just what, she wondered.

His eyes went back to her face. She couldn't keep herself from blushing as she averted her eyes. Without warning, his hand reached up to her face. Her heart started to beat faster. But his fingertips barely grazed her cheek before he thought better of it and moved away.

Letting out the breath she was holding, she went to hang up his coat as he turned the corner. As she put it in the closet with the rest of their outerwear, she could faintly smell the mixture of their scents. She leaned into the closet, taking in a deep breath. Her nose was so accustomed to the smells, she could clearly define what was hers and what was his.

There was the soft floral scent with a hint of citrus, then there was the light, barely there scent of his cologne. Just one whiff brought so many things to her mind. She thought of _sakura_ in the spring, sweet potatoes and acorns in the fall. How long had it been since they sat down and ate a freshly steamed sweet potato together?

The sound of dishes clanking in the kitchen brought her back to the real world. Leaving her memories with the coats, she rushed into the living room to find Teru setting out chopsticks and napkins. She caught him just in time as he reached for plates and soy sauce dishes. He knew that the kitchen was her territory, ever since he forbade her to enter the study. It was her sad attempt at maintaining some control.

"What are you doing?" she said as she scurried to take the plates from him.

As she grabbed the plates out of his hands, her bulging belly bumped him in the stomach.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she quickly walked around him and placed the plates on the table. She didn't dare look at his face to see his reaction. "You'll have to wait a while, until the sushi is delivered."

"That's fine," he said, relinquishing the plates to her.

That's fine, it's fine, fine, she thought. That's all he ever said anymore.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he walked over to the television. Draping it over the sofa back, he settled himself in to watch the news. He immediately turned the channel to NHN.

She let out a barely audible sigh as she went about the dining table with the plates. Before it was always the vulgar Sakura TV that he watched. Now he only watched NHN when he was home. He especially watched that ridiculous KIRA show with that Kyomi Takada.

Moemi loathed that woman. The way she walked around like she was some queen, she certainly thought she was. Moemi had met her once, when Teru was on a television debate in Tokyo last year. Kyomi Takada was the moderator, and had favored Teru throughout the entire debate.

She didn't have anything against Kyomi Takada at first, but when Moemi found out that Teru had been on several dinner dates with her, well, she blew her top.

It was their first argument. Four years of dating and marriage, and they had never fought. She thought they were doing so well compared to all her friends. Her perfect fairy tale was ruined because Kyomi Takada.

What made her angry the most was how Teru never tried to deny any of it. He didn't see what the problem was. Well of course he wouldn't, she thought.

When the doorbell rang, she realized that she had been staring at the table top for who knows how long.

Teru looked back at her when it rang for a second time. Glancing in his direction, she saw him frown at her. I suppose, she thought. Staring at nothing and walking around in a dream-like state would seem strange to anyone.

"I'll get it," she unnecessarily said and walked to the front door.

That was fast, she thought as she paid the delivery man. 1500 yen for the fastest sushi in Kyoto.

When she came back to the main room, Kyomi Takada's face on the television greeted her. It was six o' clock already. Everyday she had to listen to this crap. But it was what Teru wanted to watch. She had always known that when he wanted something, it wasn't in his nature to give up.

"Teru," she quietly called.

He peeled his eyes away from the television and walked over to her, taking the sushi from her hands.

"Can we not watch that tonight?" she asked nervously.

As she looked up to see his reply, she hoped that maybe, just maybe he would give her a smile and say 'okay'.

Though what she saw in his eyes chilled her to the bone. He was staring at her, his face expressionless. But the power behind his eyes frightened her. It was the same look he gave her the night before, the moment before the bruise.

She dropped the change in her hand out of pure shock. Letting out a breath she broke eye contact and glanced down. Coins were scattered around her feet, but she wasn't even thinking of that. All she could think about was that terrifying look. For a second she was sure he was going to do it again.

Bending down to pick up the coins, she felt a hard thud in her abdomen. She fell to her knees as she let out a cry.

Teru set the sushi on the counter before kneeling down beside her. He put his hands around her shoulders.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "It's just the baby kicking."

He glanced her way before letting out a short sigh. He gripped her harder and pulled her to her feet.

"Don't push yourself," he said as he led her to the table. She felt like protesting, but as he pushed her into a chair, she thought better of it.

She watched him walk back to the kitchen. He was so…stiff, she thought. His black hair, his black suit, grey shirt and white tie, everything was so dark and stiff. All the color was gone. Only shades of the past were left.

He gathered the scattered coins and placed them on the counter. Picking up the sushi, he walked over to the table and distributed the pieces quickly and precisely. Walking back to the kitchen, he deposited the plastic box in the recycling. He dished up the rice before retrieving two glasses from the cupboard and reached into the refrigerator for the oolong tea.

Coming back to the table, Moemi noticed him glance at the television. Kyomi Takada was busy listing off people to be judged and the message of KIRA. Moemi risked a frown before Teru turned towards the table.

He poured them both some oolong tea before sitting opposite of her. She glanced out the balcony window before looking at him. To her dismay, he was balancing his concentration between her and the television, between her and Kyomi Takada.

He looked her in the eye before holding up his chopsticks between his palms. Moemi did the same.

"_Itadakimasu_," they said in unison.

She reached for the soy sauce and poured some for them both. Without a word he began to eat the sushi. She watched his for some sign of displeasure or enjoyment, but there was nothing. He ate with a blank face, without any indication if he thought the sushi was any good or not. She supposed that she could feed him almost anything and he would eat it just the same.

She dug into her rice bowl and gathered clumps of rice in her mouth. Meals were always like this now. No conversation, with the background noise of NHN and Kyomi Takada. Teru wasn't watching the television anymore, but he was still listening. She saw his eyebrows twitch at certain things that he heard. At one point he turned his head and frowned at the television.

Moemi let out a silent sigh as she watched him. She put her rice bowl and chopsticks down and stared at her hands. How many dinners like this lay ahead? When would he stop caring so much about KIRA? Is this how it's going to be for the rest of her life? What...about...the baby?

She took a few sips of oolong tea and closed her eyes. She wasn't hungry anymore.

"Are you not going to eat?" he said.

She opened her eyes and looked at him across the table. His gaze was gentle, but it didn't feel right. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she could see that he was a fraction away from giving her that look again.

She shook her head. "I…I'm just not that hungry," she said. It was true. She had no appetite. She didn't eat lunch today, and she barely had anything for breakfast. She wanted to believe that it was because of the pregnancy, but she knew it was something else.

"You need to eat, for the baby," he said.

She paused at the comment. Was his concern for real? The last time he had an interest in the baby was a long, long time ago.

"I…know," she mumbled. The food seemed to ripple like waves in front of her eyes; she couldn't focus her concentration.

She could feel his eyes boring into her. He was glaring at her, she knew it. He was going to do it again.

"Moemi," he said, bidding her to speak.

Fear gripped her and refused to let her think properly. She closed her eyes again, not wanting to look at him. She didn't want to see his face. What would she do if he did it again? Should she leave the apartment? But where would she go? None of her friends would take her in. But she couldn't stay if he did it again, she wouldn't stand for such a thing. But that was the kind of thinking that made him do it in the first place. What could she…

"You're afraid of me now, aren't you?"

Her eyes snapped open. She looked up to see him still gazing at her. His eyes, was that regret she saw in them? Or was it disappointment in her? She couldn't tell.

Fear. She was afraid of him, yes. Not just from last night, but before that, forever before that.

Her mind cleared. Putting a hand over her belly, she turned her eyes down.

"I think," she began quietly. "I think that I was always afraid of you. But I also think that's what drew me to you."

He was quiet for a few moments. Then he put down his bowl and chopsticks.

"Moemi," he said.

"You terrify me, Teru," she said, finally getting it out. She had known for a long time, but now she was going to tell him, no matter what he did to her.

"I can't explain it. It's as if you hate everything and everyone; but you let me in, for some reason. I felt that I understood you, and I thought that was all we needed."

"And now?" he asked.

Now? What could she do now? She couldn't go back to the way things were. He was different, she was different. Change is inevitable. But…

Now? Where could she go from here?

* * *

Once again, if there is demand, I will continue this, just give me time to organize my stuff. Please tell me what you think.

* * *

**_ Glossary_**

**_Genkan_**: Virtually all Japanese houses have an area in the front of the house called a _genkan_. It means the front door or the foyer. When entering the house, one takes off their shoes and outerwear and stows them in a closet or whatever. The genkan is considered as still being outside the house. So once one steps up and out, one officially enters the house. _Genkan_ are usually tiled surfaces.

_**Sakura**_: Pretty obvious, but I'll list it anyway. Cherry blossoms. They bloom for about a week starting in Kyushu and ending in Hokkaido. Usually pink and not much of a scent, but pretty never the less. The object of many a sad Japanese poem or story.

_**Itadakimasu**_: Meaning "to receive a thing". It's said at any time one eats something, to thank everyone and everything under the sun that brought the meal to one's hands. It must be said at every meal, or people will become uncomfortable...really uncomfortable.


	2. Chapter 2

Abrasions Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not receiving any profit from writing this.

**AN**: As I am going off information from the manga, I will be using Kyoto University as another setting in this fic (since that is the college Teru graduated from). Now, I'm not sure if Kyoto University has a junior college, nor am I sure if English is a major field of study there. But for the sake of this fic, I am adding both (a junior college and an English major).

Also, I do not know the exact dates to when Kyoto University begins and ends their terms, so I'll be estimating by using other Japanese schools and institutions as example.

Keeping with the "Japanese-ness" of this story, I've decided to use the romanji spelling of suffixes to names (such as –san, -chan) and write names as: 「Family Name, Given Name」, because that's the way it is in Japan.

It's been a long wait, and I am sorry for it, but life, school and other projects always intervene. I can't guarantee regular updates, though I will do my best. And since I've obviously decided to make this in to a multi-chapter story, I promise to finish it. I hope you'll be with me the entire ride!

**Abrasions** Chapter 2

by lmh

* * *

April 1st, 2004. Kyoto University.

The mid-day sun shone down on Kyoto University with a vengeance. Despite the day being chilly, just a few minutes under the sun would make anyone perspire. The wind was light, and countered the sun's rays nicely. The sakura were in bloom; their loose petals painted the scene with splashes of pink and white. It was the perfect and typical day for an entrance ceremony.

Hordes of people made their way out of the gymnasium, talking excitedly after the ceremony let out. Proud parents took photos with their sons and daughters, who were decked out in suits and ties; smiles everywhere.

Bored children detached themselves from their mothers and chased after the falling sakura petals as if it were a game. They jumped their best when the wind took the petals up, and the dove onto the pavement when the wind slipped between their legs.

The entire atmosphere was infectious, and Mishima Moemi had great trouble containing her excitement as she leafed through a photo catalogue of the university. She trailed slowly behind her mother and grandparents. She wanted to take everything in, this day was one she hoped she would never forget. It was the day she officially became a student of Kyoto University, the second best in all of Japan.

"Moemi, hurry!" her mother called out to her.

Raising her head, she saw the three of them up ahead, her mother beckoning her with her hand. She made no attempt to hurry her speed, walking slowly was hard enough in heels, she wasn't used to it.

"Come, stand with your grandparents," her mother said when she caught up. She held up a camera and motioned for them to squeeze close.

"We are all so proud of you, Moemi-chan," her grandmother said as they locked arms. She playfully shook her granddaughter as she grinned from ear to ear.

"To get into such a prestigious school, I'm sure your father is smiling," said her grandfather.

"Okay," her mother called as waved to get their attention. "Cheese!"

Moemi quickly lifted her hand to make a peace sign, unable to shake the habit.

"Oh, so nice," her mother said as she looked at the screen on the digital camera.

The smile quickly vanished as it was replaced by an anxious glance at the clock tower.

"Moemi, hurry and call a taxi, the movers will be at the apartment soon," she said as she swiftly walked up to Moemi and pushed her towards the main gate.

"But, Oka-chan!" she exclaimed, "I was going to talk to some of the tennis club girls!"

"You can do that anytime. We have to meet the movers; do you want furniture or not?"

"Oka-chan…" Moemi pleaded, eyes moist with tears begging for sympathy. Of course, no one was taken in by it. They had all become accustomed to her ploys.

"Moemi-chan, listen to you mother," her grandfather said sternly. His voice was barely audible, but his firm eyes held her tongue.

"Yes," she said, conceding.

Placing the catalogue in the plastic bag her mother was holding, Moemi began her trek towards the front gate. She glanced around at all the commotion, suddenly aware of the light, yet crisp atmosphere. The colors were so vivid, edges were sharp and the voices of people carried across the courtyards with a powerful volume. It all blended together as she took it in, lifting her mood.

She was finally here, in Kyoto.

A few seasoned students trickled through the mass of black suits and boasting families. Whatever their business, they moved with a sort of self importance. Some walked with friends and took notice of the newly christened freshman, smiling between each other and making notes of the sights.

Moemi tried not to gawk at her _senpai_ (1). She would have to depend on them soon enough. She just glanced around, quickly taking their presence in and taking notes of her own.

She reached the gate well enough. The guard greeted her and took her request. In no time there was a taxi to take Moemi and her family to the apartment complex, her new home.

* * *

The euphoria commonly felt by freshman during the entrance ceremony quickly plummeted by the end of the first day. The course work continued to flow in, with no stopping in sight. It was said that it would get easier, but Moemi was already reading three stories for her English classes.

Not to mention her duties to the tennis club. She was overcome with excitement when she first talked to the club captains. They were friendly and kind, they beamed confidence and pride. Moemi felt it as she thought herself lucky to be accepted as one of them.

And here she was, at their first exhibition match against a local club. She watched from the bench as her _senpai_ whacked the ball across the court. She clapped and cheered when it was expected of her, but she was undeniably disappointed. None of the freshman were even considered to be in the lineup. All they did was cheer during matches and do all the grunt work for the juniors and seniors.

The stands erupted into a raucous cheer as Inaba Chika, the head captain, beat her first opponent, winning the set. She balled her fist and threw it into the air triumphantly before running off the court towards Moemi.

"Good work, Inaba-san," Moemi said as she handed her a towel.

Chika nodded as she dragged the towel across her face and neck. "Too easy," she said and sat down.

Moemi quickly went to the water cooler and retrieved a small cup. Handing it to Chika she took her post on the bench again.

"Say, Mishima," Chika said as she kept an eye on the court. The next set was beginning.

Moemi turned to her, expectant of another scolding. The day before at practice, some of the older girls caught her hitting a few balls against a wall. She was supposed to be gathering the equipment, but she couldn't help herself. Chika looked annoyed, as she did with most freshman, but Moemi didn't want to attract the wrath of her senpai.

"One of the girls from yesterday said that you had pretty good reflexes, despite the fact you were slacking off," she said.

Moemi bowed eagerly as Chika took a swig from a water bottle.

"I'm so sorry, Inaba-san. I should have been doing my job. Please forgive me," she said hastily.

Chika laughed, taking her eyes off the court for the first time. "Don't be silly," she said as she looked at Moemi. "It's not like you were keeping anyone back. The only person you were hurting was yourself."

Moemi hung her head as she felt her face grow hot. "I'm very sorry," she said again.

"I said don't worry about it," Chika stated firmly. "Actually, Mishima, I was thinking. I want to see you in action next time at practice."

She snapped her head up. The words didn't reach her properly she thought. "What?" she blurted. Chika laughed at her. Moemi was quick to cover her mouth.

"I want to see how good you are," she said. "We're looking for some promising people to carry on the club."

"Inaba-san," Moemi began, but hesitated. It's what she wanted. Maybe she would finally be able to hold a racket at practice. But the voices of her fellow freshman came back to her. Quiet complaints against the senpai had started among them. They stated that the juniors and seniors loved to lord their status over them all.

"What about the other club members?" she asked, taking the appropriate pauses between words.

Chika sighed and ran the towel over her face again. "Whatever. If you've got what we're looking for then they'll just have to suck it up."

"Oh…" Moemi said, letting her gaze drift off over the court.

A sharp slap to the back of her head brought her attention back to Chika.

"Inaba-san!" she said loudly. Frowning she reached back to massage the battered spot.

"What are you worrying about?" she admonished. When Moemi's frown turned to a pout, Chika softened a bit. "I know the club politics are annoying. You'll just have to endure. But we're trying to build a formidable team here, and if you can make it even greater, then that's just too bad for them."

She smiled before turning back to the game.

Struck by the boldness of Chika's declaration, Moemi nodded her head, at a loss for what else to do. Elated at the thought of playing on the court, she faintly smiled. She could only think of what the other freshman would say. She didn't want to care.

The crowed erupted in cheers again as Kyoto University took another match. Moemi stood and clapped along with the rest of her club mates, but her mind was in other places.

"_For the time being, there will be a short recess_," the announcer said, loud and clear over the intercom.

Several freshman rushed onto the court to clean it up. Some gathered up balls that had escaped, others were smoothing the clay of potholes from previous players. People in the stands left their seats for the restroom and concessions.

Moemi, free of duty on the court, went with the crowd as she made her way to a vendor. Clad in her white uniform, she stood out from the rest.

She was deathly tired, despite not doing much at all. She supposed that her body was trying to snatch back the sleep she denied it during the week. Dragging her heels, she found a vending machine chock full of energy drinks. Unfortunately, there was somewhat of a line.

"Are you serious?" she muttered to herself and sighed.

Lazily whipping her body around, she glanced around at other vendors to see them in much the same situation. Her bottom lip characteristically jutted out as she realized she would have to wait no matter where she went.

Sighing again she turned to face the queue and periodically shuffled her feet forward as the line progressed. She watched the people as they stood in front of the machine, pondering the choices, then inserting their money. The bottled drinks clunked and bumbled through the machine. Eagar hands of the recipient reached into to take their drink, then they ambled back through the line.

She smiled to herself as an elderly couple argued between C.C. Lemon and Mitsuya Cider. Their points were silly, stating their preference for one, a good reason to purchase it. The woman shook her head over and over again as her husband tried to insert money into the slot. She looked on in envy, knowing that they would forget the argument in a matter of seconds.

"Moemi!"

Moemi turned around to see her friend, Fuji Yuika jogging towards her. She met Yuika during the first day of classes and found they had a certain number together. The girl was kind and amicable, but her mouth had a propensity to run unchecked.

"Yuika," Moemi said as her friend came to a halt.

"I was able to sneak away when Inaba wasn't looking. I know she's our senpai, but she can be so mean!"

Moemi smiled. "She's just doing what she has to do."

"Of course," Yuika said as she looked down to open her wallet. "This line is huge! The next set is starting in a few minutes."

"I never thought so many people would show up for an exhibition match," Moemi said as she looked around.

Yuika smiled wryly, "Well, this is Kyoto University," she said. Moemi nodded.

As the line advanced the slightest step, Yuika turned full on Moemi. She stared her down as she held her head close. The determination in her eyes was almost comical. Moemi would have laughed, had Yuika not been so intrusive.

"Is it true?" she asked.

Moemi looked to the side and backed up a few steps before she shook her head.

"What?"

"It is true?" Yuika asked again, "That you're going to play at the next match?"

"Oh," Moemi said as she held up her hands. She gently touched Yuika's shoulders and pushed her away. "Wow, nothing is a secret around here."

"So, it is true?" said Yuika.

Moemi paused before she nodded. The line moved again and a pair of men in dark glasses slipped in line behind them. Yuika's expectant eyes flicked to them before going back to Moemi.

"Inaba-san just said she wanted to me to try playing at practice. It doesn't mean much," Moemi said. Yuika waved her hand in front of her face, as if to ignore Moemi's comment.

"Whatever," she said, "She's way impressed with you, I can tell."

Moemi thought it a mistake in her hearing, but the way Yuika posed the question, and made her response was…not right. She was holding something in her face back. There was more to what she said, way more.

"She's not impressed. I'm sure she'll ask other freshman to do the same," she replied.

Yuika hawked out a laugh that wasn't jovial at all. "No she won't. It's so unreal. You get in trouble for slacking off in practice, and now you're playing in matches."

"Yuika," Moemi started, remembering yesterday when she held back from cleaning up the court to hit balls against the walls. "It's only at practice."

An announcement came over the loudspeakers, alerting the players and spectators that the next set was to start in five minutes. Moemi sighed as she looked up the long line to the drink machine.

"Come on," Yuika said and latched onto Moemi's hand and began to lead them back to the court.

She tugged hard on Moemi's arm, hard enough for her to lose balance. Moemi fell to the side as Yuika pulled her, and ran head on into a wall of beige leather.

Despite the shock and embarrassment of plowing into a person, the first thing that hit Moemi was the distinctive smell of leather mixed with light cologne. It was…frim, without being too overbearing. As she righted and pushed herself away, her hands moved over the leather. It was soft, almost like smooth cream.

She lost Yuika's hand in the commotion, and didn't even think of looking for the girl. She stumbled back and immediately moved to a bow, over and over again.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed as many times has she could in one breath.

"Never mind it," he said.

Moemi looked up to be faced with a stern upperclassman. The thick rimmed glasses were a poor attempt at shielding a staunch pair of dark eyes. She felt an uneasy cloud of apprehension creep over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she said again, "I wasn't looking…"

"Never mind," he replied.

She supposed she could describe his voice as gentle, because it was so soft, but it was different. Something was guarded, and it didn't bounce off her in a comforting way.

"Oi," said another man, presumably another upperclassman, "Watch where you're going."

He approached Moemi. With annoyance smeared all over his face he looked down on her. His friend put up a hand to hold him back.

"I said never mind it," he said.

The other roamed his eyes over Moemi one last time before slapping his friend on the arm and motioned to leave.

"Damn freshman," he said, "Come on, Mikami."

The other one, Mikami, turned around without a second glance her way; the little incident was already out of his mind, probably. Forgotten, insignificant.

"Moemi!"

She turned to see Yuika, just feet away, hastily waving her hand.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she latched onto Moemi's hand again.

"Yeah," Moemi said.

"Sorry about that, it's just, we'll be in a lot of trouble now!" she said with a grin. "But that'll probably help you, won't it?"

A person didn't have to be a genius to detect the thinly veiled disdain beneath that statement. She grabbed Yuika's arm and shook it lightly.

"Would you please stop talking like that?" she said.

"Talking like what?" Yuika said. There wasn't any confusion written on her face, however.

"You know what I mean," Moemi began, but Yuika was no longer looking her in the eye. She was focused elsewhere. Moemi felt the indignation rise in her throat. She shook Yuika again.

"Listen!"

"What's that?" Yuika said and pointed towards the ground.

"What?"

Frowning, Moemi turned her head to see where Yuika was pointing. A manila folder was lying on the ground. Several papers stuck out of the top, jostled from a fall.

The two girls walked over. Moemi picked it up, being careful not to let the papers spill out. She tucked her wallet underneath her arm and with the other hand, pulled the papers out to look at them.

"'_The Fallacy of Modern Law_' by Mikami Teru?" she read aloud from the title page.

"It looks like a dissertation," Yuika said as she stood close to Moemi. "Wow, it's so long!"

Moemi clenched the papers between her index finger and thumb and flipped through them. There had to be at least two-hundred pages there.

"Mikami…" Yuika said quietly to herself. She slapped Moemi's shoulder as her face lit up. "Hey! That's the guy's name, the one you bumped into."

"He must be in the law school," Moemi mused.

She tilted the folder on its side and jumped a little in surprise as a hefty white envelope fell out. She instantly recognized it as the type of envelope people stored monetary gifts and payments in. She heard a few coins tink against each other as she shook it.

"Open it," Yuika said, with the smallest amount of excitement in her voice.

Moemi flipped the lip of the envelope back and reached in to pull out a thick wad of cash.

"No way," she said to herself as she fingered the 10,000 yen notes. There were hundreds of them. There had to be at least 200,000 yen in her hands.

"Oh wow!" Yuika exclaimed as she hugged Moemi around the waist. "Oh my! What's he doing carrying so much money around, I wonder."

"Who knows," Moemi said as she closed the envelope and put it back in the folder. She lifted her head to look around. The vending area had cleared out, mostly. Everyone had gone back to the court, but she couldn't see him anywhere.

"What are you going to do with it?" Yuika asked, close to Moemi's ear. She could hear her anticipated breathing.

"Probably return it," she said as she looked back down at the folder.

"I think you should keep it."

"What? Are you crazy?" Moemi said, almost yelled.

"Why not? It's a lot of money!" Yuika said as if it was the most natural thing to do.

Moemi shook her head as she detached herself from Yuika and began to walk back to the court.

"I can't keep it!"

"Come on!" Yuika pleaded, "Just give him the dissertation, that's it."

Moemi frowned as she shook her head. "No, it wouldn't be right. Besides, he'd know it was us if all he got back was the dissertation. Are you stupid?"

Yuika's eyes narrowed as she glared. "I guess I am," she said as she fell in beside Moemi. "It's still a lot of money, though."

Moemi sighed to herself as she took out the paper again. She read over the title page and flipped through the many papers. The last few were something of a resume, it looked. There is was, his name, telephone number, address, and anything else she would want to know, if she were sending him a letter or hiring him in a company.

"Mikami Teru," she read aloud, "He didn't look very friendly."

"He's probably some snobby rich boy," Yuika said. "I bet the money is a weekly allowance from 'otou-sama' (2)."

A wealthy son of some business man or lawyer, she thought. The rich and falsely righteous; she shuddered at the thought.

* * *

**Glossary**

(1) _senpai_: _Senpai_ is roughly the equivalent to the western concept of "mentor." Respect must be paid to the _senpai_. In Japan, the relationship between _senpai_ and _kohai_ (junior) can be very strong and meaningful, spanning lifetimes.

(2) _otou-sama_: "Otou" is a shortened version of "otousan" (father). Adding –_sama_ on the end makes it a highly respectful way to refer to one's father.

* * *

So there is the second chapter. Please look forward to the next!

I feel like I must explain the premise of this story. As it will be written from Moemi's point of view, there won't be as much Mikami as some of you are probably hoping for. The idea is, it's about Mikami, but from the outside looking in. However, I guarantee he will make appearances in every chapter. I'll also do my best to give him more of a presence in the story. I mean, he _is_ a pretty integral part to the plot, don't you think?

Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not receiving any profit from writing this.

Thank you to all those who reviewed. Sorry for the irregular updates, but as I said before, I can't guarantee a chapter every week, but I hope you're still eager to read!

Enjoy!

**Abrasions** Chapter 3

by lmh

* * *

"Kanpai!"

Glasses full of cocktails and mugs overflowing with beer and foam clunked together with a distinctive chink. Liquids spilled over the edges of the glasses, but no one was bothered much. It was a konpa(1) at a local izakaya(2), the refreshments and rest were a much needed break from the grind that was school and tennis. Of course, people still acted as they would at practice. Yuika complained under her breath many a time in the last hour.

"Why do we have to order for everyone?" she whispered to Moemi as they hid behind a menu, slinking close together. "I don't know what everyone likes. This sucks."

"Just get the usual things. There, karage, ika(3), um…I don't know, I'm sure the boys will eat anything," Moemi said as she looked over the different options.

She peered over the top of the menu and eyed the crowd of boys dispersed around the long table. Thanks to their captains, the boys tennis club were also in attendance. Apparently, Inaba Chika was dating the boys captain, or that's what everyone said, Chika wouldn't say anything one way or the other. The two of them were casually talking to each other at the far end of the table. Cigarettes dangled from their fingers.

The boys were rather loud, and were causing no end of trouble for the izakaya staff, who were running between customers and trying to keep up with people screaming orders at them. Moemi caught the attention of one waitress and sympathetically smiled. The waitress smiled back with a pained, but comical reaction. Moemi's smile grew wider.

"What's so funny?" Yuika asked.

"Huh? Oh," Moemi said as she snapped her attention back to the menu. "Nothing, I was just thinking how hard it must be to work here!"

Yuika sighed, very audibly and clutched the menu tighter. "Yeah well, I'd say we've got the shit-end of the stick as well."

Moemi sneaked a sideways glance at Yuika before sighing herself, but not very audible at all, of course.

"Oi, Fuji, did you order yet?" one of the captains yelled from a few spots down.

Yuika growled as quietly as she could. Flipping the menu down, she smiled sweetly at the captain.

"I was just wondering what everyone would like, Nomura-san," she said. Moemi almost laughed from how fake her voice was. It wasn't lost on Nomura-san, however.

"Whatever you think is best, Fuji," she replied, glaring their way.

Yuika nodded with the ridiculous plastic smile on her face and flipped the menu back up. She turned to Moemi and scowled.

"Flag someone down, will you?" she said as she wrote various things down on a scrap piece of paper.

Moemi nodded as she turned away, and tried to identify the waiters in the mess of people running about. There were many in white shirts and black slacks, but most of them were carrying things around or already taking orders. The waitress she had noticed before was nowhere to be seen.

She raised her hand, calling out to a few that walked, or rather, ran by. Of course, they weren't listening to her. The aroma of the different platters wafted into her nose as they went by. Her tummy grumbled, as well as others.

"Fuji, what's taking so long?" yelled one of the boys.

Yuika dropped her mock-friendly demeanor and narrowed her eyes as she lowered the menu. Straightening her back she rose and leaned on down the table. She just barely opened her mouth to spit some vile comment before a boy sitting next to her intervened.

"Leave her alone, Oda," he said.

Yuika closed her mouth, glancing sideways at the boy. The surprise on her face was evident as she frowned at him in confusion.

"I was only teasing, Watanabe," replied Oda with a smile and a long drag on his cigarette. He smirked Yuika's way and blew out the smoke in one forceful breath.

Obviously not entertained, Yuika's scowl deepened as she looked back towards the menu. She shook her head and grumbled curses underneath her breath. Moemi cringed to herself as she heard the expertly stressed words come out of her friend's mouth.

The boy who had stood in her defense, Watanabe, laughed to himself.

"If you speak a little bit louder, they may be able to hear you," he said to Yuika. She sighed as she finished writing the last thing to order.

"Yeah, then I'd never get a chance to play in a match," she said as she handed the paper to Moemi. "Moemi, however, doesn't have to worry about any of that. She's already got on Inaba-san's good side." She smiled sweetly at Moemi, but only a fool would differentiate it from the smile she gave Nomura.

"Yuika, stop," Moemi said as she sighed. She lifted her hand in the air and waited for someone to come her way.

"Oh?" said Watanabe, "You're playing in matches, Mishima-san?"

"No, I'm not," Moemi said as she snapped towards him. "Inaba-san only wants to see me hit a few balls in practice. No one said anything about playing in matches."

"She was slacking off after practice, and now she's right up there with the juniors and seniors," Yuika said as she nodded.

Moemi pushed her shoulder sideways into Yuika. Frowning, she raised her voice. "I said stop it."

Watanabe laughed as he sipped at his glass of beer. "Mishima-san is only being modest."

"I know, right?" Yuika said as she smiled at him.

He kept his gaze on Moemi as he grinned. "I admire that."

Moemi's hand shrunk into her lap as the thought of ordering food immediately left her mind. Both girls dropped any sign of anger on humor and stared at Watanabe. Yuika's mouth opened just the slightest. She frowned before shaking her head.

"W-what?"

"There's so many people who like to show-off these days," he said as he drank again. He took several gulps and sighed in satisfaction with his beer. "I admire Mishima-san."

Moemi felt the heat rise in her cheeks and fill her head with all sorts of fleeting images that set an uneasy flutter through the bottom of her stomach.

"You're very bold, aren't you?" she said.

He laughed. "Well, you won't get what you want by just sitting around and being timid."

She nearly scoffed as she looked away in embarrassment, the heat growing stronger. If he thought that flattering her every word and action would move her, he was sorely mistaken. Sad displays like that didn't touch her one bit. In a party such as this, she knew what the objective was, and she hated it. She was only here because of her tennis career.

"Oi! Another beer!" he suddenly shouted at a waiter that walked by. Moemi remembered the paper full of everyone's orders and she stuck her hand in the air again.

"Here, We'd like all of this," she said, having to clear her throat.

Taking the scrap paper, the waiter glanced at it before taking out an electronic data pad. Handling the stylus with expert precision he punched in the orders with quick dispatch.

"Understood. You orders will be here in fifteen minutes," he said and walked off to another room. Watanabe jumped right in again.

"So, you two are freshman?" he asked.

"Yeah," Yuika said, "I didn't think college would be this hard, though! Everyone kept telling me how easy it is, but we get a ton of homework every night!"

"Well, this is Kyoto University," he said as he smiled.

His smile was easy going and he moved in a way that suggested an intense zeal for life. He was all over the place; the way his legs were splayed out in front of him, and he never hesitated to laugh as loud as he could. Everything was funny and no joke aimed at him was too harsh. His fellow club mates took advantage of this, but he would jovially take it all in.

"What did you say your name was?" she asked him after Yuika made another complaint about classes.

"Watanabe Hiroyuki," he said with a grin, "Pleased to meet you."

"The same here," she said.

They bowed to each other, followed by Yuika. How irritating it was for him to be grinning as he was. She knew what men thought about, it was all they did. She had plenty of unfortunate high school experiences to know about that.

"You don't seem to be having very much fun," he said.

She shrugged her shoulders as she propped up the menu again.

"I wouldn't say that. It's just a little bothersome when people think it's all right to force themselves on you. It ruins a good party."

He lowered his head as he chuckled to himself. Taking a cigarette out of his jacket he lit up. Puffing on the cig, he blew the smoke in her direction.

"Is that what you think of me?" he said. There was no inflection in his voice to suggest he was asking a question. Moemi felt her heart skip a beat.

"I never said that. I'm just making a general observation of tonight. I would think that includes everyone."

He sucked in deep, the smoke filtering out as he spoke. "Cut it with the evasive bull shit. You don't have to be roundabout with me. Nothing gets to me."

"You're very confident," Moemi said as she hoisted the menu higher. She heard him laugh.

"By the way your eyes are glazing over, pretending to read that menu, it looks like your trying to ignore me in hopes I'll leave you alone," he said. Her heart skipped again as she felt a hot embarrassment rise in her cheeks.

"Fine, I'll turn this way. But I'm sure we'll see more of each other," he said as swiveled to face the other way. He immediately began a conversation with another girl who seemed glad to receive his attention.

Yuika slapped her on the arm, hard. Moemi yelped in surprise and turned to Yuika.

"What are you doing?"

"Me? What are _you_ doing? He was just trying to be nice."

"He was hitting on us," Moemi hissed, growing more and more irritated.

"So? Most girls would appreciate that, especially from a guy who is as good looking as he is!"

"Well, then you go after him," Moemi said, "I'm not interested in that kind of person."

Yuika sighed as she looked sideways at Moemi. "You're really stuck-up at times, you know that?" she said before turning around and tapping Hiroyuki on the shoulder. She entered into conversation as easily as he did.

Moemi allowed herself to glance their way, just once. They were smiling and blatantly flirting. She slumped her shoulder as she look at the menu. It was like high school all over again. People who pretended to be friends, and boys who didn't think once about other's feelings.

The food came sooner than later and renewed everyone with a sense of good time and casual banter. Moemi chewed on a few yakiniku sticks, but her heart wasn't in it. She spent the rest of her evening observing everyone else, and wondering how she could renew her sense of what was good, and what made a good person. Whatever it was now, it didn't seem to be getting her very far.

* * *

The next few days went on without much incident. Practice went on as it always had, and Chika never asked her to show what she could do. At first she was relieved at not having to show off in front of the entire club, but that faded away and she was disappointed, mostly with herself if not with Chika.

Why shouldn't she want to become a better player? She was at one of the best schools in Japan, with one of the best tennis clubs in the country. Disappointment turned into spite and as each day passed, she engaged Chika in every kind of conversation in hopes her captain would ask her to join in at practices. She knew she bordered on annoyingly persistent, but this is what she wanted.

She was walking to her next class after eating lunch alone when she resolved to take a sheet of paper from her book bag. It was the resume of Mikami Teru, the man she had rammed into at the exhibition match.

The envelope with the dissertation and money had been sitting on the desk in her apartment for the past few days while she drummed up enough courage to call him. She thought email would be the easiest way to do things, but he didn't even have that. There was his address, but she could never think of being that forward.

All that was left was a phone number, which she didn't really want to do, but alas.

She passed a group of students on their way into the cafeteria as she dialed the numbers. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as she heard the dial tone start up. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven rings before it stopped. She heard nothing, not even breathing. Then…

"This is Mikami," a smooth, calm voice said. It was the exact same as what she heard at the exhibition match. He didn't even sound confused.

"Ah, yes, um…" she began, almost forgetting her reason for calling. "I, uh, you dropped an envelope at the girls tennis exhibition match a few days ago…"

He was silent for a few moments before she heard him take in a sharp breath.

"Yes," he said. Well, he wasn't helping this conversation along much.

"I, um, I was the girl you bumped into, well, I bumped into you, actually. Well, I have your envelope, just to let you know…"

"Yes, is everything still inside it?" he asked. The calm nature of his voice should have been smoothing, but yet again, it sent a chill up her spine.

"O-Of course," she said. "I can mail it to you, if that is all right. There is a resume like thing with what I hope I can assume is your addre-"

"No," he interjected. "I would prefer if you bring it to me, if that isn't too much trouble."

She waved her hand in front of her as a gesture, despite the fact that he couldn't see her.

"Oh, not at all! Of course that would be fine. I understand completely, with that amount of money in there-"

"You opened the money envelope?" he said, interrupting again.

She stopped in her tracks and slapped her hand over her mouth. Stupid, stupid, she thought. There she was, sticking her foot in it.

"I-I'm very sorry. It's just, my friend and I, we-"

"So someone else saw it?" he said.

She paused, forgot her words again. "A-ah, just one person, she didn't say anything. I-I have the envelope."

"Yes, you already said that, didn't you?"

"…Yes…"

"If it's possible could you bring it to the library? I will be on the second floor around two o' clock or so, if this is possible," he said, plowing on to the next point.

"Oh, I have class until three," she said, but as he spoke up immediately, she knew she wasn't going to afternoon class today.

"I am very sorry to trouble you, but that money is for some business I have, and it needs to be taken care of by early tomorrow morning."

"…Business…?" she said. By this time she had sat down on the nearest bench and was contemplating what she was going to do.

"I need that envelope." He said firmly.

She contemplated how fast she could run home, get the envelope and return it, and if she would miss much of her afternoon classes in doing so. She calculated different train routes and how much she could spend on a taxi if necessary. Either way she cut it, she was going to miss a large chunk of her next class. Maths…she was already failing it, only a few weeks into the semester. She really couldn't afford to skip it, but she also didn't want the wrath of this man bearing down on her. With the amount of money he was toting around, who knew what kind of damage he could do to a person's life.

After taking several labored breaths, she nodded and agreed to help him out.

"All right," she said, "I'll be in the library at two."

"Thank you," he said with no sound of being grateful.

"But," she added before he was done speaking. "It will take a few trains and a taxi to get it to you in time; things like that cost money, especially with how slow some of these taxi drivers go…."

There was a momentary pause on the other side before she heard him breath heavily into the phone. She couldn't tell if he was chuckling to himself or if he was sighing in annoyance and indignation.

"Of course," he said, "All expenses will be reimbursed; as long as I have it in my hands before two o' clock."

"No problem at all," she said as she stood up. She swiftly began to walk away from math and science building and towards the main gate.

A new sense of defiance was rising up in her. She would be dammed if she didn't get it to him in time.

"I will be waiting," he said.

"Please do so," she said and hung up.

She broke into a run. She would show these pretty rich boys that they couldn't push her around. She wasn't some toy soldier to be maneuvered around a game board.

* * *

Of course he chose the worst time to ask for the envelope.

Moemi burst out of the crowded express train and broke into a sprint through the station. It was one fifteen by the time she reached her apartment. The envelope wasn't actually on her desk; it was buried under a dirty tennis uniform. She spent ten minutes searching for it; she of course looked through the contents to make sure everything was there.

By the time she made it to the station closest to the university, it was already one forty. If she ran, she wouldn't make it.

She figured it wouldn't matter if she got it to him by two thirty, but her own pride was something she wouldn't let him trample over. It was the principle of the matter! She said she would have it to him by two o' clock, and that is what she would do…even if she didn't do it.

"Darn it," she said to herself as she checked her watch. There was no time. Her pride would have to be compromised.

She made it out from the underground, ran past the gates and out to the station plaza. Tens of taxi lined the street, waiting for a fare to pick up. Hastily, she rummaged through her book bag and pulled out her wallet. There was only 1000 yen, not enough if most taxis started their fare at 590 yen.

She stamped her foot on the ground and uttered the mildest curse she could think of. There was no choice but to run. She was already heaving from sprinting through the station; she felt she would collapse from exhaustion if she ran all the way to campus. Next time she went home, she would have to refuse her grandmother's anpan and melonpan(4); eating that sort of thing every day was doing nothing for her stamina.

Just as she made the step forward, a scooter came roaring into view. A young man took one look at her from behind his helmet and immediately took notice. He turned off the bike and removed the helmet.

"W-Watanabe-san!" Moemi cried. This was the last person she needed to see, especially at this time.

"O, it's Mishima, eh?" he said as scratched his newly forming beard. "Shouldn't you be in class?" he said with a jovial tone. Moemi wasn't in a joking mood, however.

"The same could be asked of you," she said. He laughed.

"I suppose. But a freshman who likes to seem so good shouldn't be skipping class."

She glanced away. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay and chat. I'm in a hurry." she said as she walked past him. He moved the scooter to block her way.

"Where you off to?"

"Back to campus."

"What's that in your hand?" he asked, stretching for the envelope. Moemi stepped back and pulled it away from his reach.

"None of your business."

"If you tell me, I'll give you a ride," he said with a grin.

She glared down at him and weighed her options. On one hand, she would be late. On the other hand, she would get there in time, but she would be indebted to Watanabe.

Neither appealed to her vanity, but she had to choose. Her pride, or her…pride?

Then again, she didn't want to seem as if she couldn't keep a promise, especially to someone who seemed as strict and hard at Mikami. She could always ignore Watanabe afterwards, she didn't owe him anything. She would have to be absolutely clear about it.

"I have to return this envelope to a…friend," she said, "To the library by two o' clock, and I'm very late."

He glanced at his watch, then the station clock before whistling. Handing his helmet to her, he motioned for her to hop on behind him.

"Well, come on. You'll never make it on foot."

With a slight hesitation, she yanked the helmet out of his hands and stuffed it on her head. She swung her leg over the seat and wrapped her arms around his waist, which was amazingly rock hard, even under the leather jacket.

"What about you? You have to wear a helmet(5)," she said as she clipped the straps together.

"Don't worry, I'm too fast for the police," he said and laughed.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"What? You don't want to hold onto me?"

She shook her head as she settled in. "How long have you been driving a scooter?"

"Oh, I just bought it last weekend," he said.

"What!"

"Hold on tight!"

With a jerk strong enough to give her whiplash, they were off.

Watanabe's driving skills were nothing to praise. He weaved in and out of cars and squeezed the bike in between large trucks. Moemi screamed enough times to make him laugh over the wind and the traffic.

People scrambled to get out of the way as he plowed through a busy intersection, ignoring all traffic lights and signals. Her grip around his waist tightened to an indecent level as she held on for her life.

As they approached the gate to Kyoto University, she saw the guard waving his arms through the air, frantically trying to get their attention. Watanabe chose to take no notice and sped through the entrance.

"Hey you two! No scooters past the bike racks!" she heard the guard yell, but they were far past for him to do anything.

Watanabe swerved to a halt in front of the library, barely missing a few passing students. Moemi nearly toppled over as she struggled to dismount.

"You call that driving?" she yelled as she readjusted her book bag. Watanabe only smiled as he took back his helmet.

He glanced at his watch. "It's one fifty-five," he said, "Later you can comment on my driving skills all you want."

With a gasp, he was already forgotten as she flew into the library.

Second floor he had said. She frowned as she thought of the vast amount of rooms there were on the second floor.

She slowed to a brisk walk as she passed the main desk and scaled the stairs, taking them two by two. She looked to her left and looked to her right and sighed. There was no other option, with only four minutes left she called him again.

"This is Mikami," she heard. His voice was already becoming familiar, though no less chilling.

"It's me, Mishima Moemi," she breathed into the phone.

There was a long pause. She didn't have time for this dammit!

"Mishima Moemi?" he said, confused.

Great, he forgot her existence completely.

"Yeah, the person who has your envelope. I'm in the library, second floor, but you never told me which room to go to, so I have no idea where to deliver this."

If she didn't know any better, she would have thought he laughed on the other end.

"I'm in the tutoring office. If you're coming up the stairs, it should be on your left. 285."

She nodded and darted off to the left. She watched the room numbers ascend and gulped down a wheezing cough as she wrenched open the door to room 285. A quick glance around the foyer gave her no sight of Mikami.

The woman behind the desk eyes her before standing up.

"Excuse me, may I help you with anything?"

"Oh, yes," Moemi said as she leaned against the counter. "I'm looking for a Mikami Teru-san, he said he would be in the tutoring office…"

"Ah, Mikami-san, yes, let me see if he is in," said the woman as she sat back down. Taking out a white binder, she opened it and began to flip through the pages.

Moemi fingered the lip of the envelope as she bounced on the tips of her toes. There was no way to will the woman to go faster, but she tried anyway. Leaning over the counter a little more, a firm hand tapped her on the shoulder. She yelped in surprised and swiveled around, only to ram into a crisp button down shirt.

"Two o' clock exactly," he said.

She glanced up and saw he was staring at his watch, seemingly unperturbed that she ran into him, again.

"Oh, Mikami-san, this girl was looking for you," said the woman behind the desk.

He nodded to her. "Yes, thank you."

With no further ado, she held up the envelope and waited for him to take it.

"You owe me 1200 yen and a twisted ankle," she said with a force that surprised her even. She almost slapped a hand over her mouth and bowed in apology, but she stopped herself, she had to be firm.

"A twisted ankle?" he said as he took the envelope. Opening it up, he searched through the contents until he was satisfied.

"Yes, a twisted ankle," she said as she sat in the nearest chair. "I tripped on the escalator coming out of the station."

The side of his mouth twitched as he fished around in the money envelope. He stood in front of her, his figure blocking everything else in the room.

"For your troubles," he said and handed her a 10,000 yen note(6).

Moemi didn't attempt to pick her jaw up off the floor. She barely fingered the bill before he closed both envelopes and bowed to her, very slightly.

"I am sorry to make you go to such measures. I do appreciate it," he said.

"Oh," she began. She hadn't expected him to really hand over money, and 10,000 yen to boot. It was more akin to throwing her weight around, intimidating him. Of course she saw he wasn't an easy one to crack.

"This is…a lot of money," she managed to get out.

He closed his eyes for a slight moment before shaking his head. He glared down on her.

"That is nothing. It's pocket change to some," he said.

Moemi stayed rooter in her spot as he walked aside towards the desk.

"Thank you, Asai-san," he muttered before turning back to Moemi. "I really do appreciate this." And with that he made to turn around and go back to where ever he had come from.

Moemi fingered the bill again, turned it around in her hand. It was thick and crisp, so unlike any money she held in her hands before. Anything that came her way was always crinkled and used, second hand. He was in a completely different world from her, a whole level above. Where people threw around money like it was nothing and believed they could buy anything from a trinket to happiness. Perhaps they could, they certainly never wanted for anything.

Then why...?

"So, you work here then, do you?" she asked.

He stopped, turned back and looked at her. He frowned in the confused, inquisitive tone in her voice.

"Yes," he said. "I am a tutor."

"Really?" she said, wanting to ask why he even needed to work. "In what?"

"Mostly law and languages, but a fair amount of people come to me for math and science."

She wanted to scoff. He was a regular renaissance man.

"Thank you again, Mishima-san," he said and turned abruptly, not giving her a chance to ask more.

* * *

Practice that evening was bitter sweet. Yuika was speaking to her again. She went out of her way to find Moemi as news spread of Watanabe's reckless scooter driving. It was even more of a shock to many as Mishima Moemi was the girl on the back of the bike, either holding on to him for dear life, or just holding.

"I thought you didn't like him!" Yuika said as they suited up in the clubhouse locker room.

Moemi sighed as she folded her jeans.

"I don't. I was in a hurry and he offered a ride. I would have been in big trouble if he didn't appear there."

"Ooo, it's like fate!"

"No, more like bad luck," Moemi said as she placed the rest of her belongings in the locker and shut it. She picked up her tennis shoes and began to walk towards the locker room exit.

"You skipped class," Yuika said as she jogged to catch up. "What could you have been doing? Hm?"

"I was just returning the papers and money to that Mikami Teru," she said. Yuika's eyes widened at the name and she gasped.

"Why didn't you tell me? I wanted to come too! Oh, what was he like? Was he all stuck up and mean? He certainly looked like it. Oh, why didn't you tell me?"

Moemi laughed as she listened to Yuika go on and on.

"He was…nothing special. Just your typical rich boy."

Yuika nodded her head as she locked arms with Moemi. They walked on in silence for a few more moments before Yuika smiled and nudged Moemi in the ribs.

"You know," she said. "I could look past the snobbish attitude for a man like that."

Moemi laughed again. "You mean a man with money."

"Don't act so ridged," Yuika said as she pouted. "Money works wonders."

"Ok, ok," Moemi said as she patted her friend on the hand.

Moemi was glad for Yuika's company again, but she came to realize in only a few hours, that like money and fortune, the favor of others was just as fickle. Captian Inaba decided to hold a team "tryouts" session in order to gauge where everyone was at. All she really did though was have Moemi test her skill against every upper classman while the rest of the freshman did the usual tasks, cleaning the court, performing maintenance on the club's rackets, and chasing after stay balls. No one had enough leisure time to sit and watch Moemi, but there was enough clumping in groups, whispers and odd looks shot her way.

Yuika was at Moemi's side as soon as practice was over. Although Inaba let Moemi spar during practice, she still held her responsible for cleaning up afterwards.

"You were pretty good today," Yuika said with a glance towards the other girls.

Moemi looked up at her face, unsure whether she was being sincere of sarcastic. She reached down to pick up the last of the tennis balls and placed it in the bin.

"No, I'm sure anyone could have done just as well," she said. Yuika shook her head.

"Then why were you the only freshman out there?"

"Yuika, stop."

"No," she said as she linked arms with Moemi. The other freshman passed them on their way to the locker rooms. "You were really great."

Moemi stared into Yuika's eyes and saw a subtle smile there.

"Thanks," she said after a pause.

The two of them pushed the ball bin to the field house before making their way back to the clubhouse. The April days became longer they were graced with more sunlight to hold them over to the later hours. Moemi looked up to the blue sky turning a light shade of pink as the sun began it's slow, leisurely decent below the horizon. She wiped at the nape of her neck and drew a thin film of sweat.

"Oh, I'm not looking forward to the summer heat," she said to Yuika.

"What are you talking about? Summer is my favorite time of year! I get to wear skirts and shorts and tank tops, stuff you could never wear during the winter."

"Yuika," Moemi said as she rolled her eyes, "I bet you wear miniskirts year round."

Shrugging her shoulders Yuika giggled and leaned in closer. "They _do_ like that, you know. The boys, I mean."

Moemi laughed and pulled Yuika closer as they went through the clubhouse doors and made their way down the hallways towards the locker rooms.

"Of course, you would know all about that," she said.

As they laughed to themselves, the other freshman girls emerged from the locker room.

"Oh, Mishima-san!" one of them, Ishikawa Manami, said as they spotted her. "You were amazing in practice!"

"Yeah," the others chimed in, "I was so surprised! I didn't know you could play like that!"

"I guess Fuji-san was right! Captian Inaba will be asking her to play in matches!"

"Wow, Mishima-san, that's great! You'll have to give me pointers one of these days, I want to play in matches too!"

"it's not every season an upstart freshman gets to play with the upperclassmen."

"Upstart?" Yuika said, finally getting a word in. "What do you mean by that?"

The girl who has spoke, Anzai Rie, put a hand over her mouth. Her nails were a perfect pink and carefully adorned with rhinestones.

"Did I say 'upstart'? I only meant it in the kindest way possible."

"I'm sure," Yuika said as she moved to push past them.

"Hey, Fuji-san," Manami said, "We're going out, you wanna come?"

"Oh," Yuika said as she turned to Moemi, "Moemi and I already had stuff planned. You guys want to come with? We were just going to go to a café or something."

Rie looked Moemi up and down before she looked up Yuika and plastered a well manufactured smile on her face.

"Sure. Just send me a mail when you're done."

A few of the other girls whispered in each other's ears as they walked off.

As soon as they were out of earshot Yuika wasted no time in trash-talking them.

"Fucking bitches!" she said as she slammed her hand against the locker room door. "Who do they think they are?"

Moemi was silent as she walked past the rows of lockers. She knew this type of thing would happen. The moment Inaba mentioned her involvement in future practices she anticipated a sour reception by the rest of the team. A few disgruntled looks wasn't enough to deter her, however. She had made up her mind, and she was sticking to it.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "It'll pass soon enough."

Yuika scoffed. "They're just jealous. They're all shit and they know it."

"It's fine. Don't waste your time with that," Moemi said, but as she finished her sentence, she had to cover her nose from a foul smell. Yuika followed her suit and made an ungodly noise in disgust.

"Stinky! What is that rank smell?"

Moemi shook her head. She pulled her polo shirt up to cover her nose as they rounded a locker. The smell only got worse. Yuika squirmed as she complained.

The walk down the aisle did nothing to alleviate the smell; they were getting closer to whatever it was. Yuika jumped over the bench to reach her locker and gasped as she peered across the row.

"Oh, Moemi!" she exclaimed.

But Moemi didn't have to read the name on the locker to know it was hers.

"What is that smeared all over it?" Yuika said as she leaned closer. She too pulled her shirt up to cover her nose. "Is…is that shit?"

Moemi sighed. "No, it's just rotten…something."

She opened her locker to confirm what she suspected. Stuffed in between her jeans, underwear, shoes, in everything there was garbage. Rotting banana peels, used tissue, molding bread, half eaten rice balls, rancid meat, it was rubbed into her clothing and stuck to the walls of her locker.

"Those bitches," Yuika muttered.

"Wet some towels, will you? I'll have to clean this up."

Yuika nodded after a pause and ran off to the bathroom.

Moemi reached inside and pulled out her street clothes. They spared nothing. Even the bills in her wallet were laced with strips of lettuce and daikon (7). Even…even the 10,000 yen note Mikami Teru gave her was soaked through, no longer crisp and clean.

It was astonishing that they neglected to go through her wallet and left it as it. She supposed it was more humiliating this way. Fingering the 10,000 yen bill she thought of his face and what a sharp, stiff bill meant to her, what it meant of him and that other world. Things like this didn't happen there, with those people who could buy anything they wanted, even happiness.

She clutched her racket in her hand before chucking it down the aisle. It hit the concrete wall with a satisfying crack.

* * *

Once again, thanks for reading!

Notes:

1: A _konpa _is the short form of the German loan word _Kompanie _or the English loan word _company_. A type of Japanese drinking gathering held by university students in a casual drinking establishment called an _izakaya_, and are more relaxed than the traditional _nomikai._

2: An _izakaya _is a traditional Japanese "bar" or drinking establishment which also serves food to accompany the drinks.

3: _Karage_-deep fried food. Can be a wide variety, chicken, potatoes, squid. _Ika_-squid.

4: _Anpan_ (red bean paste in a bun) and _Melonpan_ (a bun stuffed with melon, usually coated with sugar).

5: In Japan, it is law to wear a helmet when riding a motor bike/scooter.

6: 10,000 yen = about $100

7: Plainly put, a radish. More specifically, an East Asian radish, white in color. It's pretty much a favorite of most Japanese.

If the notes/glossary is annoying, please tell me so!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not receiving any profit from writing this.

Thank you to all those who reviewed. Once again, I'm sorry for the erratic updates. I've been going through some things in life that unfortunately have taken me away from writing. I'm trying my best to be productive once again!

Enjoy!

**Abrasions** Chapter 4

by lmh

* * *

The atmosphere at lunch had become increasingly trying. Yuika took it upon herself to invite Watanabe Hiroyuki to eat with them every few days. Every few days eventually turned into every day and that soon turned into Watanabe being not far from their sides, no matter where they went. Just as he had shown at the konpa, he was especially keen on Moemi. Not only did she have to ignore his advances, she also had to tune out Yuika's frequent jeers and encouragements. What could she say? She wasn't interested.

However, Yuika didn't see it that way.

"I don't understand you," she said as they waited for their pork curry to be dished out.

The cafeteria was in full swing with students and faculty flowing this way and that, eating, socializing; it was a regular bee hive with busy voices humming in the background.

"Why should I lead him on?" Moemi said after sighing quite audibly. "I don't want to start anything with him. Besides, as if I would have the time for that stuff."

"'That stuff'?" Yuika said as she took her plate of curry. She thanked the cook and moved her tray on down the line. "Having no time for 'that stuff' just means you're too scared to try anything."

Moemi was next as she took her plate and thanked the cook. She followed Yuika and grabbed a shredded cabbage salad.

"Why can't you just believe me when I say I'm not interested? Would you start something with Shiiba from our English writing class?"

She was referring to a particularly peevish boy in one of their classes who always had the answer and made sure everyone knew he was much smarter than them. Yuika crinkled her nose as she took a cup and began to fill it with tea.

"That crater face Shiiba? Gross!" she exclaimed. A few passerby looked on in confusion.

"Exactly my point," said Moemi as she too filled up on tea.

"But Watanabe isn't hideous. He's very good-looking, tall, and kind. There's no comparison."

"You seemed so concerned about this non-relationship with him."

"Well, you should know a good opportunity when it shows itself," Yuika said as she looked down at her tray.

"Yuika," Moemi said as she tried to peer into her friend's face. "Do you like Watanabe or something?"

Yuika shrugged her shoulders before shuffling a few feet. People in line behind them got tired of waiting and moved around them and onto the next item on the menu. Yuika gave a short, barely there nod.

It finally dawned on Moemi, Yuika's language to her at the konpa, and the cold reception she received afterwards.

"I saw that he likes you, so I didn't want to try anything. I just thought there was no point, you know?" she said with a little laugh before walking off. Moemi followed her.

"You can have him if you want, I'll even talk to him for you."

Yuika stopped in her tracks and stared Moemi down. Her eyes quivered in a desperately hopeful way and a smile that wanted to show itself, but was too afraid. She had no idea Yuika's feelings were so strong.

"Really?" she said. Moemi nodded.

"Yeah, next time he comes around I'll give him a good talking to!"

Yuika nudged her again and the smile came though, however sheepish it was.

"Thanks," she said. Moemi shook her head; it was nothing, anything to get Watanabe focused on someone more receptive of his attraction. She chastised herself; without knowing, she was inflicting Yuika with pain every time Watanabe showed up, which just happened to be every day. Then again, Yuika was quick to change the way she felt about anything. The past few weeks were certainly evidence of that.

Several hands in the crowd shot up and waived at the two of them. Yuika stood on the tips of her toes and craned her neck this way and that. A grin spread on her face when she saw who it was.

"Oh, it's Mana and Rie!" Yuika said. She nudged Moemi with her elbow and nodded towards the group of tennis girls. "Come on!"

A hot flash burst through Moemi's cheeks. She certainly hadn't forgotten what they did to her locker. After several trips to the bathroom sink and an hour and a half later, she had finally washed her clothes and scrubbed out her locker with disinfectant cleaner. She took home the wet garments to air dry and made sure to lock her locker. She still hadn't figured out how they got in there to begin with.

Although Yuika acted quite angry at the time, she was very chummy with the girls at practice. Her attitude towards Moemi hadn't changed at all, but she couldn't help but feeling like it was some betrayal.

So she followed Yuika to the table. Ishikawa Manami and Anzai Rie were sitting with one other girl, Noda Harue, another tennis freshman. They grinned at Moemi and patted on the unused chairs next to them.

"Have you guys found a place to sit?" Manami asked.

"No, it's so crowded," Yuika said.

"Sit down then, what are you waiting for?"

Yuika smiled as she plopped right down next to Manami. Moemi instantly saw where she stood in this group. Manami and Rie were facing each other, as were Yuika and Harue. The only other seat was next to Yuika, with no one sitting across from her.

"Is something wrong, Moemi?" Rie said.

Moemi shook her head and sat down. Harue leaned across the table and grinned.

"So, I hear you're going to play at the match tomorrow, is that true?"

The other girls leaned in closer and bore their gazes into Moemi. As she picked up her spoon she looked down at her curry. She held it over the plate for a fraction of a second. She nodded.

"Yes, it's true," she mumbled.

"Oh, wow, that's so amazing!" Rie squealed, "Right, Mana?"

Manami nodded, "Yeah, it's like having a prodigy on our team. I could never hope to be as talented at that."

"I wonder what other talents you have, Moemi-chan," Harue said as she straightened herself in her chair.

Moemi said nothing, not seeing their comments deserving of a response. It was clear to her that they weren't letting her sit with them solely for the sake of friendship. After what they did to her locker, she expected it; but this time the enraged voice of Yuika was absent.

She glanced towards her friend and felt a pang of something stab her heart when she saw Yuika staring into her curry. She tapped Yuika's foot under the table, but the girl didn't respond. Instead she turned to Manami and started a new line of conversation.

"Oh, The spring drama(1) line-up is starting tonight! Which one are you guys going to watch?" she began. As the other girls chimed in, Moemi tuned out.

It had only been a few weeks since the term started and already people were grouping together and others being singled out. She thought that the university experience would be full of mature people who didn't waste their time with things like creating childish drama and going out of their way to destroy another person's gym locker. It wasn't right, the way these girls were acting. It wasn't right how they said one thing than did another. And it certainly wasn't right to see something and then look the other way.

She took a big spoonful of curry rice and stuffed it in her mouth. She held her time chewing, not listening to the conversation and not really attempting to take any part in it. The others didn't seem too concerned about engaging her either.

If this was all college had to offer in the way of relationships, then she would just forget it. If this is the way things are, then she saw that people hadn't advanced past an elementary mindset.

How disappointing.

As she dug in for another spoonful a loud clacking noise made the table collective jump in their seats. Their heads snapped to the person making a big show of sitting across from Moemi. She almost scowled. It was Watanabe.

"Watanabe-senpai!" Yuika said with astonishment. A few eyes at the table shifted towards Moemi before focusing on Watanabe again.

"What are you doing here?" Moemi said pointedly.

"You invited me!" he exclaimed as he put a hand over his chest. The pained expression on his face was so fake it was laughable.

"Yuika invited you,"

"Thanks, Fuji," he said to Yuika with a big dumb smile on his face. Yuika basked in Watanabe's limelight.

"How forward of you, Fuji," Manami said. "It's not often the tennis senpai, let alone the boys, bother with us freshman."

"Yeah, yeah," said Rie.

Watanabe laughed. "You invite me to lunch, I'm gonna eat with you," he said while grinning at Moemi; it wasn't lost on the girls.

Moemi sighed as she lifted the spoon, ready to eat…but her appetite just wasn't there. Wherever it had gone, it seems it was chased away by Watanabe's appearance. She downed her tea and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Yuika asked.

"The library," she said.

Picking up her plate she got away from that table as fast as she could. Much to her chagrin, Watanabe followed her.

"Senpai!" Manami yelled after him.

"Oh, take care of that for me, will you?" he said, gesturing to the plate.

Moemi looked back at Manami's horrified look.

"Eh? Is this what she does to men? What the hell is wrong with your friend, Yuika!"

Moemi didn't wait around to see Yuika's expression or listen for her answer. She was tired of pandering to that crowd. Yuika could do as she liked.

She deposited her plate at the cleaning station, thanked the woman working there, then briskly began her walk for the library. Watanabe followed.

"So, Mishima, what's new?"

"Nothing," she said, short and simple. He laughed.

"Ah, are you always going to be like that?"

"Like what?" she said, knowing full well what he meant.

"Like you can't stand me,"

"I never said that."

"You don't have to."

She turned her head without stopping and addressed him, straight on.

"Look, Watanabe-san, I'm not interested, okay?"

"Ou!" he said as he laughed out loud. Very loud. "Boy you are stuck up! Whoever said anything about liking you?"

This made her stop. She turned around to face him. "You don't?"

He laughed more. "I never said it."

She narrowed her eyes and almost sneered at him. "You don't have to."

Laughter. "Well, in that case, come get some ice cream with me."

Moemi took a step backwards. "I don't think so," she said before she continued her brisk walk. "I don't think that's possible. Besides, didn't you just say you are not interested in me?"

"I never said that," he replied. "I was just playing around with words like you are."

Abruptly halting again, Moemi whirled around and put out a hand to stop him. He fell short, just a few twitches from her fingers.

"You know, Yuika likes you, a lot," she said.

His eyes widened as round saucers as he straightened up. He was in mid stride and stumbled at bit at her bluntness. Putting his hand behind his neck and scratching away, he squinted at her.

"What…did you just say?"

Moemi sighed. "Yuika, she really likes you."

He squinched his face up in an ugly fashion. "Fuji? Likes me?"

"Yeah," she said, "So ask her to ice cream, not me."

With that she turned back around and continued towards the library.

"But it's not her I'm interested in," he yelled after her.

"And you're not the one I'm interested in either," she called over her shoulder.

"Then who do you like?"

Well, she didn't answer that. Perhaps it was a poor choice of words, now she had him thinking she had feelings for someone else, when that definitely was not the case.

"You just need to be convinced!" she heard him yell after her before laughing.

There was the slightest pause in her step, but she ignored him. Interested in him? Yuika never accounted for compatibility, or on second thought, perhaps Yuika and Watanabe were well suited for each other. Both of them were pushy and loud, and they both went for the looks only. Moemi didn't think she was anything special, but she knew what men looked for, she knew what men thought of her features. She crinkled her nose at the thought. What did Watanabe really know about her?

She passed through the library doors in a sour mood. She kept telling herself that it wasn't worth getting angry, but she couldn't help what bloomed anyway. She had to forget him and focus on what was really important to her now.

Her grades.

Along with tennis practice every day of the week, and occasional trips back home, and going out with Yuika, and her many, many, many tennis duties…as if there was any time for school work. She didn't have to worry about English and her other classes so much as she did about Maths and Sciences. Her Algebra and Chemistry classes were taking a toll on her average.

She walked past the sensor gates and the front desk. Students were lounging about, chatting in hushed voices while others stared intensively at their laptop screens, occasionally taking notes here and there. It was the usual atmosphere of a library.

Climbing the stairs, she took a left and made her way to room 285, the tutoring office.

All right, so she came here, on purpose, with the sole intention of seeing him again… but she really was failing Algebra and Chemistry. And he _said_ that he tutored in those subjects.

She no longer had any tie with him, having given the money and papers back; but there was still an interest in whatever he was about. Men like Watanabe walked around with a gleeful look on their face, knowing that people wouldn't stand up to them, that people would just take it.

Then there were the people like Mikami Teru. Well, she thought, actually she didn't know anyone who acted like Mikami Teru…no one. Both times she saw him, it was strange, as if there was nothing around him…just a dark void, almost like a black hole, to her at least. On some level she was being sucked in, but once she was there, she felt nothing but confusion. Sense left her and she was rendered wholly unlike her usual self.

A silly girl with nothing interesting to say. A silly girl who talked back to her senpai.

As she stood in front of the tutor office, she took in a deep breath. Rarely did she feel reduced to being a silly girl. She wondered if he saw that in her.

No matter, she thought as she gathered her reserve and wrenched the door open.

The same Asai-san was sitting at the reception desk and looking over some papers, occasionally glancing at the computer screen then making a note. Moemi strode to the counter and leaned in, placing her hands on the counter lip.

"Um, excuse me…but…"

Asai looked up at her and smiled. "How can I help you?" she asked in a pleasant tone. It buffered Moemi's spirits.

"Yes, I thought that I could get a tutor for Maths and Science…?" she said.

Asai nodded as she swiveled in her chair and took a black three-ring binder from a shelf.

"Which classes are they? I need the class and section number."

"Oh, just a moment please," Moemi said as she turned to her bag and fished out a folder. After finding her schedule she gave the proper information and watched as Asai reached for a familiar white binder and flipped through it.

"Well, hm…" she began, "We have Kanehara Hitomi-san who will be in around 1:30, she tutors mostly in Science. Then there is Tanaka Daisuke-san who is mostly tutoring in basic Maths and Biology, but you're in a Chemistry class, aren't you?"

"Yes," Moemi said as she nodded. "Um…there isn't a Mikami Teru-san, is there?" she said in the most casual way she could. Though really, how silly did she sound asking for specific person?

Asai eyed her in surprise before nodding and looking through the binder again.

"Ah, Mikami-san," she said as she flipped another page. "Yes, he's actually in a session right now, but if you'd like to wait he should be done in a few minutes."

"Oh, yes," Moemi said. Inwardly sighing, she sat down in one of the waiting chairs. Asai gave a little smile.

Moemi glanced around at the various magazines and newspapers to read while she waited. It was the one normal thing she could do to stuff down the embarrassment that was sure to follow in a heat wave to her face.

One paper in particular caught her attention. It was hard to miss, with the large, bold letters across the front page. _KIRA killings strike again after hiatus_. Needless to say it shocked her. Pictures of several criminals were pasted across the page along with a lengthy story of the origins of KIRA and the whole fiasco surrounding it.

Aida peered over the counter and made an inquisitive hum.

"Scary, isn't it?" she said. Moemi looked up to her.

"Y-yeah," she replied.

"It's really scary, not knowing who this KIRA is. It's been going on for a year and the police still don't know who it is."

"Yeah, I suppose that's what makes it so frightening," Moemi said, "It's much more intimidating when you can't see your adversary."

Aida nodded as she fiddled with a pencil. "Though, he's only killing criminals, this KIRA, he can't be all that bad."

Moemi tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. This was true, KIRA only attacked convicted criminals, at the moment. But something didn't feel right to her.

"That may be so," she said, "But it's still murder. I mean, that's why we have laws and stuff like that."

"Hm…" Aida said as she lifted her head in thought.

"Then what do you propose we do when the law fails?"

Moemi snapped her gaze up to see Mikami Teru looking down on her. He was holding a folder with various papers inside. Taking out one, he handed it to Aida.

"The report for this session, Aida-san," he said.

Aida nodded as she filed the paper away.

"Well, Mishima-san, what do you think?" he said to Moemi, who was instantly on the edge of her chair. "If the law fails, is that it? Do the guilty run free? Where is the justice in that?"

"I," she began, unsure of what to do with his challenge. But something in her stirred and she looked into that arrogant face and had the desire to throw the 10,000 yen bill he gave her back in his face.

"Then that's too bad," she said. Aida gasped from behind the counter. "It's too bad," Moemi continued, "It's dangerous for one person to have all this power. No one person has the right to pass judgment on someone else."

At that moment, she remembered what kind of trouble her father went through to clear the family of debt. Loan sharks become less sympathetic over time, he realized, and only one thing could satisfy them after they took every last cent from Moemi's family.

Mikami Teru studied her with an inquisitive, and she wanted to say confused gaze. He cleared his throat before moving on.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. So blunt and uncaring.

"She needed some tutoring in math and science," Aida offered.

He glanced back at her before turning to Moemi again.

"Kanehara-san should be in after the lunch break."

"Yes, but she specifically asked for you," Aida-san said.

If she wasn't in the company of this very man, Moemi would have dropped her jaw. She risked a glance at Mikami, who barely paused before taking a deep breath.

"Really? Well then, follow me, please," he said and pointed towards the door with his hand.

Moemi hesitated, just the slightest, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into. Standing up she shuffled through the door he held open and waited outside for his direction.

"I'm surprised you remembered my name," she said as he walked ahead of her.

He spared her a glance. "Mishima-san is very outspoken at times. It makes it easier to put a name to a face."

"So being outspoken is a good thing?" she asked, humoring him.

"I wouldn't say that," he replied, just as blunt as ever.

Muttering to herself she resisted the urge to kick at the floor beneath her. Watching him from the back she could almost feel the void pulsating around him; and yet again she wanted to retaliate anything he said. Any word that came out of his mouth made her twitch in…not anger, but annoyance. The arrogance was irritating, so very irritating.

They walked away from the tutoring office and made their way back towards the main hall of the library. Looking down from the walkway above, Moemi saw once again students milling about through the stacks and chatting away with friends. Mikami took a turn and walked down the main staircase, towards a rather empty section of the library. Several tables were reserved, for the tutoring services, she assumed.

He sat down on one side, she sat on the other. He took out his pens, calculators and folded his hands neat a prim pile on the table top. She took out her books, her homework, her worksheets, her pencils and eraser, and she pulled her chair up. Squaring each other off, they began.

"Algebra and Chemisty, was it?" he said. She nodded. "Well then, if you have homework, let's see it."

Pushing down her nerves she opened her folders and slipped papers across the table. Taking them in his hands he eyed them, asked her where she was having trouble, and did his best to help her understand.

Much to her surprise, he didn't lord his knowledge over her. He was certainly smart, very intelligent, she could see that, but never during the session did he explain things in a tone which suggested she were a child. In all actuality, she couldn't solve an algebra equation to save her life. No question as to why she was failing. Her embarrassment at struggling with these rudimentary maths brought a redness to her cheeks, but he never commented on it, never even looked at her face for longer than a second, only to confirm her comprehension.

Halfway through the session he moved his seat next to hers and leaned over her papers. Clicking away on his calculator, he explained everything step by step in a voice that could only be described as restful and confident in his own abilities. Unapologetic, but not forceful. He came across so different on the phone.

"It's not that you can't do the math," he said when they had finally finished all her homework, from both classes. "For whatever reason you're not following the equations properly."

"Well," Moemi began as she rubbed her hands together under the tabletop. "I was never good at this kind of stuff."

He frowned, just the slightest and he began to gather his things. "Anyone can do this, as long as you work at it."

He didn't have to look her straight in the eye to get his full meaning across. He lifted his voice towards the end, almost sounding as if he was mocking her. It was such a delicate adjustment, but she picked up on it right away.

"Um, well…tennis duties do take up a lot of time," she said.

Nodding his head once, he began to straighten her books, stacking one on top of the other.

"Tennis _duties_," he repeated, "I'm sure they have you do all sorts of things."

"It's just what being in a club is about, it's nothing too bad."

"Except that it keeps you from your school work."

"Well, you kept me from my school work too, if you remember correctly," she said, tinged with irritation.

"The envelope, you mean?"

"Yes, the envelope that I had to skip algebra class to get."

He paused. "I never meant for you to skip class."

"If I recall, you said something like 'I need that envelope now', and then I missed my class to go get it."

"Well," he began as he slid her books over towards her, "Please forgive me."

"What?" she said. She was fully expecting him to push back.

"I'm sorry. So now there is nothing to complain about, is there?"

Squinting her eyes at him, she heaved a deep sigh and turned back to her things.

"Do you think you've grasped the material?" he asked, bringing the conversation back to the table.

Moemi whisped her hair out of her eyes as she sighed. Hunching her shoulders over, she nodded reluctantly.

"I suppose," she said, "I guess I'll see after the midterms," she said.

"You'll have to tell me the results," he said.

Moemi caught her breath before nodding again and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Sure," she said, short and quiet.

"If you need more tutoring, don't hesitate to do so."

He pushed his chair with the back of his legs as he stood up. As Moemi watched his turning figure she wanted to believe that he was saying such things for a reason. Yes, she knew the reason; it was his job to make sure that she passed her classes.

But she still couldn't get over the look on his face whenever he said or did anything. He was such a pompous ass, something in her was made to retaliate.

As she stood up, putting her things in her bag, she was slow to begin.

"You…you should come watch the match. It may not seem like it during practice, but all the work, it really pays off during the match."

He stopped and turned as she spoke. His eyes, glaring at her from behind his thick rimmed glasses looked at her as if it was such a non-sensical subject to mention.

"Will you be playing?" he asked.

"Well…well, nevermind," she said, hear flaring in her face. She shook her head as she stuck her hand in the air and tried to wave the incident away.

Stashing the last of her items she slung her bag over her shoulder and gave a curt bow of thanks. She kept her head down as she swiveled on her heel and walked away. She didn't want to give him the chance to answer.

Ridiculous, it was ridiculous. It was a snap reaction she had, like hell if she understood it.

"Mishima-san," she heard from behind her.

She stopped, she turned, she sighed in certain agony as she saw him following her.

"I was at the last match, as you know," he said.

"Oh," she said, suddenly remembering what she forgot in a fluster. "Yeah, I know. Do you know someone on the team?"

"No," he said as he continued to walk, she went beside him. "The man I was with, my classmate, his girlfriend was on the opposite team. He invited me."

She raised her head as understanding came over her. He didn't really seem the type to go to a tennis match for the hell of it. He didn't seem the type to enjoy much of anything.

"Do…do you usually go to matches?" she said.

"No," curt and bordering on rude.

She began to drag her feet as she walked, stealing glances at him when it looked as if he wasn't paying attention to her, which probably was the case.

"No, I don't have time, usually."

"Oh," she said, nodding, "Yeah, I suppose law students are always busy. I bet you have a lot of homework and cases that you have to read through."

"I'm not busy in the sense of homework and the like, though I do have to read through many cases."

"For your dissertation?" she asked. He glared right at her as soon as she said it. "I just glanced a little from the paper in the envelope," she added as quick as her tongue would let her.

"Yes; and tutoring takes up a lot of time. Many students don't catch onto the material as fast as they could."

Her face flushed warm as she hid her glancing eyes under her bangs. She saw him pause in his step for the tiniest of moments and draw in a silent, but sharp breath. Looking down at his shoes he gave a modest bow.

"Please excuse me," he said.

Slightly taken aback by the change of persona, she shook her head and bowed back. She swallowed a big lump of embarrassment.

"Do you need to tutor? I can't imagine it pays well."

"Yes, I need to. Loans will not pay themselves."

"Your parents don't pay for your tuition?"

Again, there was a skip in the beat of his rhythm. His eyebrow twitched and he closed his eyes as he moved his head side to side.

"No. They don't."

He paused, his hands on the books, his gaze going off somewhere, far far from where they were. She could have been mistaken, but the usual brown tint in his eyes wasn't there. They were black.

She wouldn't chase after that subject again.

Just as they came to the main staircase, a distinct and familiar sound cut through the soft murmur of voices.

"Oi! Mishima!"

Moemi groaned inwardly.

Bounding over from the doors were Watanabe and Yuika. Moemi felt the air shift to a darker shade beside her. She felt the air _inside_ her shift to a darker shade.

"Hiroyuki-san said you were in here," Yuika said as she looked Mikami up and down. Moemi watched the rise of her eyebrows as she realized who it was.

"You must be Mikami Teru-san, right?" she said with no hesitation.

Moemi sighed again and did all she could to make her displeasure known…without actually showing it.

Mikami gave the smallest nod of the head she had seen from anyone. Yuika's jaw slowly descended as her eyes widened and she put her hands on her hips. Watanabe's chest puffed out and his chin lifted his head to an elevated state.

"Mishima-san, if you have any more questions, please, do not hesitate to come again," he said and walked away as soon as he finished.

The three of them watched him walk up the staircase and disappear behind the stacks. Watanabe sauntered up towards Moemi and slipped in beside her.

"Who the hell was that?" he asked.

"That," Yuika said as she squeezed in between Moemi and Watanabe. "Was Miakmi Teru. He bumped into us at the last tennis match and dropped his folder. I guess Moemi did more than just return it to him!"

"Eh?" Moemi said as she whipped around to face Yuika, who was smiling ear to ear. "What are you talking about?"

"You were saying how much he disgusted you, yet here you are, chatting him up in the library! I'll say that there are better places you could have chosen, but I suppose this is very non-descript."

"Yuika!" Moemi said.

"So, Mishima, this is why you're so cold, yeah?" Watanabe said.

Moemi expected him to have that stupid grin on his face, but instead he was barely frowning. He was glaring, at her and up the stairs after Mikami.

"Come on," Moemi said. "As if I have time for that stuff."

"Again, no time for 'that stuff' means…" Yuika began.

"Shut it, will you?" Moemi said as she walked out of the situation as fast as her feet would carry her.

* * *

Thanks for reading. I'll do my best to get the next chapter up in good time.

Notes:

(1) Japanese _dorama _(drama): I'm sure many people already know, but Japanese drama are basically fictional television shows that air every Spring, Summer, Winter, and Fall months. They can be comedies, horror, romance, etc. and have a variety of lengths they can run, but about 90% of them run only during one specific season and have a definite ending, usually with no idea of a second season or sequel, unless the ratings are really good. They're usually only 10-12 episodes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not receiving any profit from writing this.

Thank you to all those who reviewed. I know I've probably lost a lot of my readership because I rarely update. I've started graduate school, creative writing. I'm seriously writing for my life now, and I've been writing a LOT, just not fanfiction. Unfortunately, fanfiction does not count in the literary world, but I still enjoy writing it. So now, with my first grad semester over, I continue on! I look to get a lot of writing done this winter break. I did say in chapter 2 that I will finish this story, so I hope that you, reading this, will stay with me through it all. When my readers let me know what they like, what they don't like, or just give me a kick in the butt, it honestly keeps me going. So thanks to all those who are still here, and I hope those who have gotten bored with me will come back soon!

On with the show!

**Abrasions** Chapter 5

by lmh

* * *

The rest of the week had gone on without much incident. Watanabe's demeanor had changed so drastically that day in the library, Moemi was going insane listening to Yuika trying to cheer him up. However, the very next day Watanabe surprised them outside their Algebra class with his usual exasperating attitude. He walked with them to lunch, ate alongside them, and even dragged the two along to a session of karaoke where his enthusiasm could very well make up for theirs' combined.

It was clear that he hadn't paid much attention to what Moemi told him. Although Yuika was always with them, he made sure to ask Moemi whenever he wanted to go out, to which Yuika usually confirmed. She wasn't looking forward to speaking to him about it again. If it continued much longer, she would have to do so.

Gradually, she declined more and more, leaving Yuika to work her 'charm' on Watanabe. Instead, Moemi put herself into her school work and tennis practice. She studied harder than she did for her college entrance exams and practiced harder than she did during the high school nationals. It was sure paying off.

Using the techniques she learned from Mikami, her grades were taking a slight and steady turn for the better. She was taking advantage of Mikami's tutoring. Little by little…she wasn't learning much about him at all; not that she was trying very hard…it was just the down time between the session set up and putting their things away when the silence became unbearable.

All she knew was her previous assumptions were based on nothing but a poor judge of character.

He wasn't rich, his parents weren't paying for anything, and he didn't like to talk about himself.

It was a far cry from her time spent with Yuika and Watanabe.

She became a girl driven by an unseen force. Her once or twice visits to the tutoring office turned into a regular thing every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday during the lunch hour. After a few tries and misses she found out that Mikami ate his lunch a few minutes before noon and finished just after. She timed her lunch and walk perfectly to arrive just after he finished. As she walked into the tutoring office he would emerge from some back room and look at her with those potent eyes and nod his head. Off they would go.

Although she saw him for about three or four hours every week, she still knew nothing more than he was law student, somehow obtained a large amount of money, and wasn't one to waste time on excessive formalities. That was not to say he was rude, but the oengthy sentences which marked someone using flattering honorifics didn't come up in his language. He was to the point, when he needed to be. He would probably make the perfect lawyer.

"So what type of lawyer do you want to be? One of those personal lawyers who caters to a family?" she asked him. The question was the wrong thing to ask, she knew as soon as the words left her mouth.

He stopped writing in the middle of an equation and looked her straight in the eye. She felt a creeping sensation over her shoulders, pushing her towards him, and she pushed back with all her might.

"No," he said, "Prosecution. Definitely prosecution."

"Ah," Moemi said as she nodded. "Of course, that would suit you better."

"Suit me better? Do you know?"

No, she didn't know at all. She didn't know what would be good for him, but she saw in a second that it would be good if she stopped prying.

And that's how it went for a solid few weeks. He didn't come to the next matches, but it didn't make much of a difference since she was never asked to play in one. Whatever reason brought her to ask him to come and watch was another thing she kicked herself over. She didn't understand what it was about him. Whether it was the quiet disregard of anything ridiculous, or those eyes that pulled her in and smothered her with their intensity, around him she had the feeling that everything would turn out for the best, somehow. It didn't make sense, and that drove her insane. She needed to know.

With the summer vacation approaching fast, the weather was heating up. Cicadas croaked all day long and the sakura blossoms gave way to leafy green trees. Shorts and skirts littered the campus grounds and sleeve lengths shortened by the day. Professors never hesitated to pile on the workload for the break, making sure every student in every class would barely have time for anything else.

Tennis practices were also heating up. Inaba had yet to ask Moemi to pick up a racquet and actually play in a scrimmage. The other freshman had all but forgotten about it until a day before the summer break.

"Oi, Mishima!"

Moemi, who was running after stray balls, looked up and saw Inaba motioning to her from across the court. She dumped the balls in a nearby basket and jogged over towards Inaba, taking care to stay out of other's way.

"What is it, Inaba-san?" she asked.

Handing her a racquet, Chika pointed over to the court.

"Get in there," she said.

"Eh!" Moemi said, jumping back out of surprise.

Chika flung a towel over her shoulder after wiping her brow. "I said get in there, so get your little tush on that court!"

"Y-yes! But, Tominaga-senpai is out there…" Moemi said, thinking of how ridiculous she would look trying to field those hits.

"You learn from the best, right?" Chika said before craning her neck over towards the court. "Oi! Kato! Please switch out with Mishima."

Kato Rika, a junior, exchanged looks with Tominaga before jogging off the court.

"So, captain," Rika said when she reached them, "We're finally going to see Mishima in action, yeah?"

"You bet. Now get out there!" Chika said, giving Moemi a push.

She set off with a slow walk. By now, most everyone had their eye on her, pretending to be working on their tasks. The faces of the crowd around her faded into one façade, and it sent her into a panic. Her heart began to beat faster and the racquet in her hands grew slick and hard to hold.

Tominaga Emi stood on the other side of the net with one hand on her hip and her racquet waving gently from her limp wrist. Moemi knew better that to assume this stance was her usual way. She knew that her senpai was doing this out of sheer intimidation, and to be truthful, it was working.

She pushed her feet forwards and took to the court.

"Ready, Mishima?" Tominaga said as she raised her racquet over her shoulder.

Moemi nodded and waited with baited breath as she watched Tominaga walk back towards the base lines. Her opponent's arm raised up, the neon green ball rose in the air. The connection was instant and they were sparring faster than her eye could follow. It was all she could do to keep up with Tominaga's hits.

By the tenth whack by her racquet, she was wondering how she was going to keep up with this. The ball came rushing at her and she barely made it on the tip of her racquet as she stumbled her way across the court. Her sneakers caught on the clay and she made a hard fall to the ground. She watched the ball lazily fly across the court, only to zoom back at her. She barely had time to react before it was coming at her again, and again. …And again. Before long she was letting out the most guttural and vicious yells as she reached and ran just to get the ball back over the net.

Tominaga across the way dissolved into the background, as did everything else around her. All she saw was the neon green orb bouncing around her span of vision. Thought ceased for her, movement became automatic and she wasn't even playing, she was reacting. The problems of the day dissolved away and she was just doing tennis. It felt better than anything had in a long while.

She gripped the racquet tighter and returned a bullet-like serve with her backhand, then rushed across the court to do it again. Yuika, Manami, and all those girls seemed years away, another time even.

An abject happiness began to fill her as she went through the motions, not really thinking it was her body moving through the air, just a divine something directing her. It was always this way when it got to this point. She would be so absorbed in the game that she wouldn't even become her own self anymore. She was controlled by something else and all she could do was go along with it. She was working herself into a fever pitch, her father has told her the first time he saw her play like this. Her fever pitch was the most gentle he had ever seen, and the saddest. She could work herself to tears and she'd never know it; it was the most poignant fever pitch he had ever seen.

She was fine with this way of playing, it obviously made her look like some sort of tennis genius; otherwise she wouldn't be sparring with Tominaga Emi, the second best on the team.

Then she thought of her life outside, what things were like, what things would be like once she woke up from this trance. Yuika, Watanabe, Manami, Mikami Teru, all these people bothering her, pushing on her, pulling from her, and it broke.

The ball came at her, faster than she could react and whipped past her; she heard the air part and whistle as it went by, then the hard thud of it on the concrete wall.

She froze on the spot. Her vision began to clear up and the dark edges faded away. As she looked around the court, no one was doing their little tasks. Everyone was staring, some where just looking with their jaws on the ground while others whispered to those next to them. She couldn't find Yuika, and at the moment, she was too exhausted and out of breath to care.

Chika sprung up from her spot on the sidelines and jogged over to Moemi. She patted her on the back, rather forcefully, her face beaming the entire time.

"That was amazing, Mishima!" she said.

Emi nodded. "Yeah, I was beginning to feel tired," she said, "If you hadn't lost your concentration at the end there, you could have given me some trouble!"

Moemi chuckled as she tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ear and looked down at her feet.

"You're playing in the next match," Chika said before she gave a snarky grin and sauntered away.

All eyes were on them.

"W-what?" Moemi called after them. "What?"

"I said, you're playing in the next match," Chika repeated.

"Good going, Mishima-san," Emi said with a genuine smile before following Chika.

Moemi couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched their retreating backs. The flutter in her stomach could not be mistaken for anything else but excited nerves popping and sending a fizzy sensation up and down her body.

"All right, that wraps it up for today. Remember, next week Friday is the match against Waseda. This is huge for us, so everyone must be present to help out. Thank you very much!" Chika said as she grabbed her things and walked off towards the locker rooms.

The stunned silence from the other team members grew to a chatty murmur as the girls went about their after practice duties. Moemi jogged over to her things to drop off her racquet and dry her face of sweat before she scurried over to the ball basket. Yuika was already wandering about the court, picking up balls. Manami, Rie, and Harue were standing around the basket chatting away. As Moemi approached they beamed large smiles, as the Cheshire cat would, and motioned for her to hurry over.

"Moemi-chan!" Rie said, "That was amazing, I've never seen anyone play like that."

"Yeah, not even Inaba-senpai," Harue said.

"What do you want?" Moemi said as she picked up a ball by her feet and dropped it in the basket.

Manami gave a half-hearted laugh as she put her hand on her hip and glanced back at her friends.

"How nice," she said before walking away.

"Bitch," Harue mumbled, following suit.

Moemi watched their retreating backs, feeling the anger and retaliation rise up in her.

"Then perhaps I'm good enough to be in your clique,"

Manami stopped just then, but didn't turn around, unlike Harue and Rie, who didn't hesitate to show their scowls. They passed Yuika, who was returning with a few balls, and whispered something in her ear. Yuika's eyes widened for a second as Manami gripped her arm. She sheepishly turned down her head and continued on her way.

"What was that about?" Moemi asked.

"Do you always have to be so confrontational?" Yuika said.

"What do you mean?"

"They were trying to be nice!"

"Nice! Oh right, calling someone a bitch is real nice."

Sighing very audibly, Yuika whipped around and walked off towards another corner full of balls.

Moemi did her own sighing as she walked in the other direction. As everyday went by, she felt Yuika's friendship quickly falling away like the sakura petals; and she had to admit that it hurt, very much, as Manami and her gang was becoming braver with their attempts of destroying her attitude. It hurt even more to see that they were succeeding. Forcing Yuika to choose, she could very well see where Yuika was going to lay if Moemi didn't play nice.

She would be lying if she said that she never thought of giving in and just going along with them as if nothing had happened. Her refusal to show any indication as to what she was feeling would make things worse. It was all words now, but she saw the time of nasty jeers dwindling and the period of something far more sinister approaching. It was no great secret, anyone who had a past with those sort of things knew it all too well. Never mind where they came from or their background, all humans acted just the same when it got right down to it.

She came back up after picking up another ball. A survey of the court saw that most everyone had left. A few girls were still smoothing out the clay and others were stashing equipment and wheeling them off to the field house.

Yuika was leaning over the ball basket, chatting with Harure. Manami and Rie were waiting over by the gate.

"Hurry it up, we were going to meet some guys from the boys tennis team at the game center," Manami said.

"Oh, really?" she heard Yuika chirp. Suddenly the mood was lifted to a silly high and she felt it radiating off Yuika from so far away.

She looked around for the last few balls and finally landed her eyes on Moemi. "Moemi! Bring them over here," she said, motioning for her to come over.

"Sure," she said, nodding. As she took the first few steps over, Haruna glanced back at Manami, who did nothing more than heave a big breath.

Haruna took a firm grip of the ball basket and wheeled it away from Yuika. "Just send the basket over to Moemi-chan, she can finish up since she doesn't want to come."

Yuika barely made a protest as she glanced nervously back at Manami. It happened faster than Moemi could see it. The exchange was done within a second and it was speeding towards her. Her mind, still coming out of isolation from practice, her muscles, still cooling down to a normal rate of movement, didn't recognize what was happening.

The ball basket ran right at her, full speed, and had no mercy as it rammed into her knees. The thin metal bars and pointing joints dug into her skin and tore at it as her body absorbed the pressure. She flew backwards, no hope of catching any balance, and crashed to the compacted clay with a nasty scraping sound. When she opened her eyes, there were pops of sharp light and a purple haze over the sky.

"Moemi!" she heard Yuika yell. Hard footsteps were pounding on the clay and soon after a pair of hands were pulling at her.

"Moemi, Moemi! Are you okay?" Yuika said.

The purple haze dissipated and she saw the outline of Yuika's face appear in the spots where the darkness had gone away. Moemi nodded her head and let herself be helped up.

"That was a little much, Haruna!" Yuika called across the court.

Haruna shrugged her shoulders and scoffed in disbelief. "I gave a good warning. I thought she was going to catch it."

"She did so well before with Tominaga-senpai," Rie said from the benches.

"Oh gods, look at your knees!" Yuika said.

"Ah!" Moemi hissed as Yuika gently touched a wound.

"Sorry."

It was unsightly. Downright disgusting. Moemi glanced up at Haruna, who was walking over to Manami and Rie who had both stood up now. They were talking, whispering, scheming amongst each other. The snide grins they directed at her were no mistake. No one could deny how deliberate they were. Moemi's chest fluttered, almost boiling over.

She limped a few steps and leaned on the ball basket. Feeling a creeping sensation, she looked down and saw a small trickle of blood snaking its way down her shin. The anger that quickly bloomed within her fluctuated just as fast and the gag reflex in the back of her throat triggered.

"Oh," Yuika worried as Moemi clamped a hand over her mouth.

"I'm fine," she said and gently shrugged Yuika's hand off her shoulder. "I'm fine."

"Yuika," Manami called, "We're going to be late. And I still have to shower down."

"I'll take you to a clinic," Yuika said as she glanced backwards at the ring leader.

Moemi leaned down to touch the skin on her knees again, despite the pain she felt from the slightest movement. She didn't think that she would have to go to a clinic, some gauze and disinfectant from the clubhouse would do the trick. But the offer still held some weight and feeling.

"Really?" she said. Yuika nodded. She turned back to Manami and waved her hand, shooing them away.

"You guys go on, I'll catch up later."

Manami dropped her arms and the smug grin on her face melted away.

"Whatever," she said, "Don't even bother coming, we'll be on to something else by the time you come."

The girls turned swiftly and made a deliberate bee-line for the exit. Their figures in white slid by outside the fence and disappeared around the building corner. Beside her, Yuika sighed and tightened the grip on her arm.

"I'm sorry, Moemi," she said, "Sometimes they can be, well,"

"Assholes," Moemi finished. The corners of Yuika's mouth turned up just a little as she looked down at her feet.

"Yeah," she said, "But they're good friends, they're better than that. You just caught them at a bad time."

She gave a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders, excusing them, like everyone else seemed to love doing. Moemi laxed her body in astonishment of what she was hearing. She knew Yuika was the type to fit in no matter where she went, but this, this was…after what just happened…

The astonishment quickly turned into anger and her face contorted. Taking a few steps back, she almost spat on the ground.

"_Caught them at a bad time_?" she said, "Did I really hear that come out of your mouth?"

Shaking her head, Yuika shrugged her shoulders. She immediately tensed up, shrunk away. The angry glaze over her face was hard to miss as Moemi prepared for an onslaught.

"What are you talking about?" she said. So she was feigning ignorance. How generic.

"You know. Why are you excusing their behavior? They ripped my legs apart, Yuika!"

Moemi watched her as she took a step backwards. "I'm not excusing them," she said, "You just always want to see the worst in people."

"What?"

"Yeah! You're so cute and quiet on the outside, but once you meet someone that doesn't meet your standards, you just write them off and treat them like shit."

"_I_ treat people like shit? I'm bleeding, Yuika, because Manami and her minions set out to do so. How is _that_ not treating people like shit?"

"It's not black and white, Moemi. People can't be all good or all bad."

"That has nothing to do with anything."

"Yes it does! You see Mana do a few bad things, so you think she's a bad person."

"She _is_ a bad person. Good people don't do this," Moemi said and lifted her knee enough to see a button of bright red bloom from a wound and trickle down her leg. Her crisp white socks and shoes were no more. They would be an awful pain to clean.

"So what are you then? There's no way you're a good person," Yuika said. Moemi chirped up, but Yuika's shrill voice overpowered anything she was going to say.

"You didn't even try to make friends with Mana."

"She turned everyone on me once she wasn't the center of attention anymore!"

"But you didn't even try to smooth things over."

"What should I have done? Be all submissive and bow down to her like you do?"

That struck a nerve as Yuika's lips pursed and she began to heave deep breaths. She balled her fists and stomped her foot on the ground.

"You're so damn stuck-up!" she screamed. Her voice echoed across the court and reverberated against the walls of buildings nearby. "It's the same with Watanabe-san," she continued. "He's trying to be nice, make friends, and you spit on him, everyday!"

"I…" Moemi began. Unsure of how to continue, she formed her words carefully. "He comes on too strong…I just, I don't want to give him the wrong idea."

It was quiet between them, Yuika took in the words, digested them. The lines on her face were etched in confusion. She would think the worst, Moemi thought, she always did.

"You haven't said anything to him, have you?" It was accusatory, it was bitter. Moemi instantly retaliated.

"Of course I have. That day after he followed me out of the cafeteria, I told him about you. Why do you think I turn down his invitations all the time?"

Yuika was still frowning. She looked down at her feet in thought, her fingers wringing nervous knots. Her outright anger was so obviously gone, replaced by her sense of deduction, which Moemi knew, from experience, wasn't the brightest. "He's never even asked me out. It's always you he asks first."

"I told him you liked him, that's all I can do!"

"Well, you must be doing something, because he always goes straight for you!"

"Yuika!" she exclaimed. What was there to say other than that? Nothing. Nothing that would settle her nerves.

"You're not a good person! You're no better than Mana! You're just as manipulative! You just want Watanabe-senpai to yourself! Once you have that then it's a spot in the matches, and then only god knows what!"

The girl heaved her breath, in and out, loud enough for it to sound against the walls. So this was how Yuika really felt. Just as immature and insecure as the rest of them. For all her guilt dealing, there was no way she could be a good person either. Moemi inwardly signed as she realized what kind of people she was surrounding herself with.

"I don't have to listen to this crap," she said. She pushed the ball basket away and limped past Yuika and off the court. She didn't care if Yuika looked after her, or followed her.

Yuika had set her own mind on this path, built up from the emotions expressed the past few minutes. There was no other choice for Moemi than to wait it out and let her come down from her high. That is, if she even wanted to wait it out.

* * *

"Are you all right?"

Moemi lazily headed out of her nightmarish day dream and glanced beside her. Mikami Teru had turned full on her and was staring with that intense glare of his. But, perhaps this time he wasn't glaring. Perhaps she saw a hint of…concern in his eyes.

"What?" she said, not hearing what he said.

"Are you all right?" he repeated. "It seems your mind is elsewhere."

She looked back at the papers and equations in front of her, realizing that all the pencil marks and ink had dissolved and merged into one gray slab of nothingness.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where were we?" she said, not wanting to waste his time. He reprimanded her earlier in the week for not focusing and she didn't want to repeat the same mistake, ever.

She heard him exhale as he pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose. "If you're not feeling well, we should continue on a later date."

"I'm fine," she said, more firm than she intended. It sounded awfully snappy and childish, she feared.

He leaned back and glanced under the table, at the large bandages and gauze wrapped around both her knees no doubt. She saw the confusion in his face when he first saw her an hour before. She had an odd walk, trying to keep weight off of both knees didn't work at all. It only took him a few questions to figure things out. He was a clever one.

"Does a clay court cause that much damage?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Um, sometimes, I guess so."

Nodding to himself he reached across and grabbed a piece of scrap paper. It laid in front of him for a few moments, his pen hovering above, waiting for something to come to mind. But nothing did and he spoke again.

"I haven't seen your friends around lately."

She stopped her fidgeting and looked at the pen in his hand. Was he trying to make conversation? Yes, her cuts and bruises did open the floodgates for anyone brave enough to ask questions. He was just curious. Mikami Teru had just as much a right to be curious as anyone else.

"You mean Yuika?" she said.

"Yes. She usually waits for you with what's-his-name."

"Watanabe-san, you mean."

"Yes," he said. And that was it for another long stretch.

She waved a wisp of hair out of her eyes and straightened in the chair. "So, how do you do these equations, again?"

Putting his pencil down, she saw his shoulders relax and he turned towards her again. Against her better judgment, she faced him and felt the full front of his…something blast her in the face. He took off his glasses and he saw his eyes without the shield. She could swear that the air in the library became thick, like a musky attic somewhere, or the summer heat; uncomfortable and almost unbearable. His expression was barely soft, as if he was trying to be consoling. Was he seriously trying to be supportive? Mikami Teru, terrifying, strict, mysterious…supporting?

"Did that happen at your last tennis practice?" he asked.

Sighing again she gripped her pencil tighter. "Can we please focus on the equations?"

"Mishima-san, injuries like that do not happen from simply falling down; especially on clay."

"Look, I have a lot of tests after the break, I really need to learn this stuff," she said as she gestured forcefully towards the problems on the paper. Mikami wasn't letting go of it.

"You said you were going to play in next week's match, is that correct?"

"…Yes," she said.

He didn't say anything, but she could feel some sort of discontent come off him, wave after tiny wave. He took a small cloth out of his breast pocket and wound it around his glasses, cleaning them. After putting them back on, he turned back to the test material.

"What?" she said. He didn't have to say anything to get his feeling across.

He shook his head. "It's easier than you think, to notice certain signs…"

"Signs of what?" she interrupted. A slow glance in her direction was enough to shut her mouth, for a little while.

"People see these sorts of things all the time, yet they do nothing about it. I've seen it so many times."

"It, it's my own business," she heard herself say.

There was nothing for either of them to say after that. He gathered the papers together and continued with an explanation on the equation they were working on. She only half listened. The rest of her mind was, like he said, elsewhere. Thinking of what Yuika had said.

A pull, a pinch in the bottom of her gut wouldn't allow her to write everything off as the ramblings of a hysterically charged girl. Was Moemi herself really such a terrible person? She refused to think she should be kind to those who acted like children themselves, teasing others for the fun of it, going so far as to hurt them and make them bleed. She didn't want to get to know Watanabe and she didn't want to become another one of Manami's underlings. She shouldn't have to force herself to do things she didn't want to do, things that didn't feel right.

This was what Yuika wouldn't understand. She was so wrapped up in her own desires she never gave any time to think of what Moemi wanted or what she felt.

Yuika…was just another follower of the next best thing. She was always waiting for it, and she was turning out to be the type of person who would stop at nothing to get it. She would grovel at whoever's feet, do whatever deed they told her to do. She was nothing more than a pawn. There was no way she was a good person either.

"Mikami-san," she said, half in a dream. "What makes a bad person?"

"What?" he said. He stopped writing whatever equation they were on and looked at her.

"Is it what they do? Or what they feel?"

"Mishima-san?"

"I think it's what they feel. Some people do terrible things, thinking with the best intentions. But if they were good and true, they would never have thought to do anything so horrible."

"Mishima-san," he said again.

"I'm sure of it," she continued, "There must be something in them, right from the beginning that makes them that way…"

If she was the type of person to lay everything out on the table, she would have broken down right then and there. But as she spoke the last word, she came out of the daydream again and bucked up. She had to keep some sense of dignity and poise.

"I agree," he simply said.

Agreed with what, that bad people were born bad? That people couldn't choose to be good? She didn't completely understand what she said, but it seemed he found something to believe in her words.

She turned away from the problems in the air, and back to the ones on the paper. She would have to watch herself around him. She couldn't let herself go by the wayside like that again.

* * *

Thank you for reading, please tell me what you think!

I don't think there are any words or phrases in this chapter that would need to be put in the glossary, but let me know if there are.

Thanks again!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not receiving any profit from writing this.

Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. I tried my best to get this one out in good time. I'm working and in school, so there isn't always a lot of time. I hope you enjoy it, anyway.

Another note: it seems as if fanfiction dot net is having issues with the document manager and it won't let me upload my files, no matter which word processor I use. I had to go back to chapter 5 (which luckily was still saved in the document manager) and copy/paste chapter 6 over it, then go through it and backspace all the paragraph indentations because it wasn't converting the file correctly. Tedious work indeed. So if this chapter looks different or strange, or if it is labeled differently, please ignore it while I try to set things straight. This is "Abrasions" chapter 6, not 5.

**Abrasions** Chapter 6

by lmh

* * *

The shift in the atmosphere on the court was easy to sense. In fact, she knew something was off the moment she arrived at the clubhouse to change into her match gear.

First, her newly cleaned and thoroughly bleached shoes and socks were nowhere to be found. She remembered putting them in her clubhouse locker earlier that morning. She had taken them home after the day her knees were ripped apart and soaked them in pure bleach for hours, followed by another few hours of intense scrubbing. She supposed it would have been easier to just buy new shoes, but she was still on her mother's salary, and good shoes didn't come cheap. And now they were missing.

Second, her racquet was broken. One of the thin plastic wires had snapped, somehow. Rather, it looked like a clean cut with wire cutters. An idea registered at the back of her head, and traveled all the way down to her gut. She didn't have to do much thinking to know who did it.

Third, Yuika had been acting strangely all day. She showed up at Moemi's apartment in the morning with a perky smile on her face and a two ume(1) filled rice balls for them to share for breakfast. Moemi found it odd, after Yuika's outburst last week, that she should be on such good terms with her again. Usually, Yuika spent at least a few days brooding and glaring at Moemi from afar. Her showing up like she did, walking with her to the university, to the clubhouse, chatting all the way as if nothing had happened, it was bizarre.

Moemi had her guard up the moment she saw Yuika standing outside her apartment, and she was right to do so. Though it couldn't have been Yuika who did all that to her things, they were together the entire morning. It had to be Rie or Haruna; no way Manami would lift a finger if she didn't have to.

"Is something wrong, Moemi-chan?" Yuika said and slid up beside her. That was another thing. Yuika had never called her _Moemi-chan_ before. Now she said it all the time.

"My shoes and socks are missing, my sports underwear too, and my racquet is broken," Moemi said and held up the racquet. Yuika examined it with more care than Moemi thought possible.

"Oh, that's terrible!" Yuika said as she tugged her polo shirt on.

Moemi turned back to her locker and roamed around for her uniform, which was still there, but not as she had left it.

"What the…" she muttered as she pulled the tattered uniform out of her locker.

It was in pieces. The shirt had gaping holes, the largest over the chest and the skirt had what looked like burn marks and holes that were singed away.

"What the hell?" she exclaimed. A few girls looked her way and some of them gasped before nudging their friends.

"What are you doing during practice?" Yuika asked.

"I didn't do anything!" Moemi said, "I just put them in my locker a few days ago and they were clean!"

The locker room began to empty as the rest of the team scuttled out to the court, as fast as they could it seemed like. All who were left was just Moemi and Yuika. She still hadn't seen Manami and her minions.

"Well, something must have happened to them. You should really take better care of your things, Moemi-chan," Yuika said as she closed and locked her locker, not giving Moemi a chance to speak. "Hurry up, you're playing the third set, right?"

She smiled over her shoulder before walking off with a bounce in her step Moemi had never seen before.

Moemi threw what remained of her uniform on the floor and kicked it as far as she could. There was no way she could go out on the court like that. There was no way she could go out there in just her frilly pink bra and underpants either. She walked past a few isles, hoping there was someone left in the locker room she could ask for help, but no one was there.

"Dammit," she muttered and hurried back to her locker. The clock on the wall read nine fifty-five. She had no time left, she had to be on the court now. But there was no way…with no uniform, with no clothes!

"Shit!" she said and tore through her locker again, searching for something to wear. Anything would be better than nothing at this point. She cursed again as she thought it would have been smart to bring the extra uniform she had at home. Then again, she had no way of knowing that Manami was going to mess with her things. And then…

How the hell did they get into her locker? Again? She made sure it was locked after every practice; she even changed locks after the last time they got in. Unless one of them was supremely skilled at picking locks, there was no way they could have gotten in.

The fall of heavy footsteps were running towards her. Not a moment later, Chika appeared around the corner. The look on her face was pure annoyance. Her eyes darted around the scene before she burst out.

"What the hell are you doing, Mishima?" she exclaimed. "You're not even dressed! You're playing the third set, you know!"

"Inaba-senpai, I, someone got into my locker and…" Moemi said as she pointed down at the tattered lump of clothing.

Chika leaned over to pick it up. Her face was a mess of surprise and disgust. "What the…?" she said. She looked Moemi up and down before looking at the uniform again.

"I think I know who it was," Moemi said.

Chika spent a few more moments gazing at the uniform before sighing to herself. She hopped over the bench and walked down a few isles. Moemi heard her opening a locker, and closing it a few seconds later. When she reappeared, she threw a pair of shoes and a fresh uniform at Moemi, who barely caught it.

"It can't be helped, there's no time. Just get dressed and hurry up!" she said.

"What?" Moemi said as one of the tennis shoes fell to the floor. "But, Inaba-senpai!"

"Get dressed, Mishima!" Chika said.

"Senpai, please. I can't go out there like this!" Moemi pleaded.

"You're playing in today's match," Chika said.

"Senpai…"

"You wanted this so bad before, some little thing like this shouldn't stop you."

"Senpai, look what they did to my uniform and my racquet!" Moemi nearly yelled.

"I told you before that if you wanted to do this, you would have to endure. I'm sorry Mishima. We can go over this later, there no time to now," Chika said, "Get dressed."

With that, Chika walked as fast as she could back out towards the court.

Moemi could only stand rooted to the spot for a few moments before she rushed to get the uniform on. It was…tight, really tight. Inaba-senpai was much slimmer than herself and could fit in smaller clothes. The skirt barely covered her behind. If she bent over, then everyone would see the skimpy and highly unsuitable underwear she had on, not to mention that the weight she had put on was bulging over the seams.

The shoes weren't much better. Inaba-senpai's feet were also narrow and small. As soon as she walked a few steps, Moemi's feet began to ache. She tied the laces as loose as she could without leaving them untied.

She didn't like this at all. There was no way she could do her best when she was so uncomfortable. Hobbling herself through the locker room and out towards the court, she kept pulling down on the skirt, trying to cover herself up, but she kept feeling the air flow all the way up and between her legs.

Just as she reached the doorway to the outside she swallowed down a lump in her throat. All she felt was that rage build up in her again. For now, this would have to do, but after, after she would catch up with Yuika and force an answer out of her. She would do something to bring that girl back to her senses, make her the same person she met at the beginning of the semester.

The bleachers around the court were packed. It was expected, for such a high profile match. The Waseda students had come all the way from Tokyo for this, not to mention that it was specially arranged since the two universities didn't usually play against each other like this. There were a fair amount of Waseda supporters, but the Kyoto fans were overpowering, cheering and holding homemade banners and flags; some patches of people even had T-shirts made for the occasion. Moemi was surprised. It wasn't a match that would count towards any tournament. It was only a friendly match to gauge the talent of all the players.

She spotted Yuika with Manami and the rest, chatting and laughing over something. She couldn't help the uneasiness that crept over her, the embarrassment. They could have been talking about something else, but as soon as she caught their attention, they burst out laughing again. They had to be talking about her.

To the left of the team bench, she fished a school racquet out of a bin. It was far inferior to hers. It was old, discolored, and the plastic wires were all different colors. This racquet had seen many days, and been repaired many times without much care to aesthetics. It would have to do. She took a seat at the very end of the bench, as far away as she could get form Manami. It did nothing to hide her, however.

Her other teammates were giving her strange looks and whispering amongst themselves. A few of them chuckled and gestured her way. Moemi kept her knees together and gripped the racquet with an iron fist.

The announcer went through the usual ceremonies, introducing each team and such. The crowd was loud enough to almost drown out Moemi's thoughts. She would have to empty everything in her mind if she wanted to do well in her set.

She wasn't the first one up, there were a few before her and they all did well. It was a draw between the two teams. It seemed as if the talent certainly was there. The match began to turn as Chika took to the court. She disposed of her Waseda opponent with ease and exchanged a high five with Tominaga Emi, who started in on her usual intimidation tactics the moment she stood up. It was no contest. There was a reason these two girls were the best in the region, possibly the best in the nation.

Then it was Moemi's turn. She didn't hear her name being called at first. There was a hissing down the bench she tried to ignore, only to find out that Manami was telling her to get out on the court. One look in the girl's direction and Moemi lost it. All the concentration she had built up was gone after one little giggle from them. She remembered what she was wearing and how she looked in it. She remembered what they did to her uniform and she tried to grasp where they could have put her shoes. Not to mention the fact that they had somehow gotten into her locker _again_.

The crowd in the bleachers waved from side to side like tall stems of grass and Moemi realized that they were all watching her.

The iron grip she had on the racquet became slick and slippery with sweat and she took a poor beginning stance because of the short skirt. She glanced behind her to the line judge and was sure she saw him looking at her underwear.

A last look at the bleachers set her on fire, an inferno engulfed her as she noticed one immovable black rock seated in the dense, moving crowd.

No, why today, of all the matches?

Why, of all the matches, did Mikami Teru have to show up at this one?

He was crouched over, resting his elbows on his knees, watching her with no particular expression on his face. He didn't look excited to be there, but he didn't look like he wanted to be anywhere else. Why did he show up, when he didn't have any interest beforehand?

Her concentration shot to hell, she played the worst set of her life. The ball escaped her more times than she could count; and she barely managed to hit it back. The ball almost always hit the net. The sets ended with her score at love and never in the lead. The corners of her vision never melted away and she could always see Manami and Mikami in her peripheral vision. She felt no traces of a fever pitch, something she couldn't play a good set without. By the time it was all over, she was biting her lip and trying to keep the disappointment at bay, long enough until she was somewhere private where she could cry it all out.

She quickly found her spot on the end of the bench and took a towel that was offered without a word.

"You could at least say thank you," she heard a snarky voice say. Rie was hovering above her, holding a small paper cup of water.

"Leave her alone, Anzai, she just lost her set," she heard someone say.

"Whatever. Here, Moemi-chan, have some water to cool you off. You've had such a hard day," Rie said and handed Moemi the paper cup. She sauntered back down the bench to join the others.

Moemi, still holding back the tears, emptied the cup with one tilt of her head. The moment the water hit her tongue she tasted something foul. She hadn't even tilted her head back forward before she was spitting the water out, staining the clay in front of her a dark brown. That got the attention of every person in her vicinity. She saw Chika lean over and glare at her with confusion. Moemi was just as baffled.

She heard a girl squeal and scuttle away from where she spat. A black, squashed insect was twitching in the puddle of water and saliva. Moemi instantly covered her mouth, fighting the gag reflex that triggered a nausea wave.

"Eww," Haruna called from down the line. Moemi glanced their way, all of them were laughing.

"Bleh! I shared a rice ball with her this morning!" Yuika said.

"I can't believe she spit on the court. How disrespectful," Rie said towards Manami, but she said it loud enough for everyone on the bench to hear, perhaps some people in the bleachers as well.

"Yeah, right?" Manami said.

Finally, the 'fever pitch' that was supposed to kick in on the court surrounded her there on the bench. She hung her head and focused on her feet squeezed into Chika's shoes. The edges of her vision went dark and she felt her senses glazing over. However, she could still hear everything said around her, to a minute detail.

The other teammates were done squealing about her 'disgusting habits' and her 'attention seeking way of dress', but there were still murmurs flittering around, some directed at her, and some about other things.

She wasn't sure which teammate was playing at the moment, nor did she care. All she thought about was Yuika's voice combined with Manami's. It hadn't even been an entire year, a few months, and Manami had orchestrated Moemi's only friend away from her. It was just her luck that her first year of college, the year that was supposed to change so much in her life, was turned on its head before it even had a chance to start.

Yuika gasped and tried to discreetly point off towards the bleachers.

"Look, there's Watanabe-senpai!" she said.

A few girls perked up and searched desperately in the direction Yuika was pointing. Moemi lifted her eyes and scanned the bleachers. There, a few seats away from Mikami Teru, sat Watanabe. The smile usually plastered across his face was gone, instead replaced by a concerned look in her direction. His eyes shifted between Moemi and the other girls.

Sighing to herself she hung her head again. Of course he had to show up as well. All the factors in her terrible first year at college were coagulating in one tennis match. She didn't pay much attention to the rest of the match, something she had never done before. She always watched the other players do their thing, looking for points where she could improve, but her heart wasn't in it this time around. She only knew the match was over when the rest of her teammates stood up in a raucous cheer. Kyoto University had won the last set, putting their score above Waseda.

The bleachers went wild, people standing up, waving from side to side. Only two figures in the crowd were immobile. Watanabe had stood up, but he wasn't cheering. Mikami was in the same position she had seen him in before. What was he doing here if not for the tennis.

She stood with her teammates and went to thank the Waseda team for playing a match with them. It was all a blur to her, the faces of the Waseda girls morphed together in a flesh colored mob and disappeared as soon as they came.

She went about cleaning up the court like always, collecting the stray tennis balls. She stayed clear of Manami, making sure she knew where they were and how close they were to the ball basket. Moemi couldn't help but moving defensively. She would gather a number of balls, as many as she could carry, sidestep Manami's group as far as she could, deposit the balls, and scurry away, all while trying not to look too ridiculous.

The girls still laughed anyway.

The last third of the spectators were still waiting to climb down the bleachers when another freshman asked Moemi to help her carry the water cooler back to the clubhouse. Moemi dropped the balls she had into the basket, saw Manami, Rie, and Yuika off to the side and hurried over to the water cooler.

"Thanks," said the girl, "It's so heavy,"

Moemi nodded as she tried to lift the cooler. The two of them still had a hard time of it. Just as the cooler slipped a bit, Haruna came out of nowhere and saved it from falling.

"Oh, Noda-san, thanks!" said the other girl.

"Here, let me help you with that," Haruna said as she placed both hands under the cooler and thrust it up over their heads and pushed.

Moemi and the girl shrieked as the top flew off and water rushed out of the wide opening. The chilled water cascaded over Moemi and the chunks of ice pelted her head and shoulders. Some of the water caught the other girl, but most of it was dumped on Moemi. Drenched from head to toe, she stood there in shock.

Haruna gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. She grabbed Moemi's arm and shook it.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I used a little more force than I thought!,"

"But, Mishima-san is…" said the girl and took a few steps backwards.

Moemi was drenched, head to toe in cold water. The ice cubes littered the clay around her. Under the hot sun they looked like brilliant jewels in the middle of a dark spot. If only that were the case.

People in the stands started to look and point, the whispers had turned to clear voices. Moemi looked down at herself. She hadn't put on an undershirt and as luck had it, her undergarments were showing, almost glowing through the ridiculously tight uniform she was wearing. She stood at the sidelines, surrounded by her teammates, surrounded by the spectators, glowing pink and frilly under the hot summer sun.

Moemi spotted Yuika coming close, walking next to Manami. In fact, they had linked arms and taken down their hair.

"She's so troublesome, ruining our club's reputation," Manami said.

"I know!" Yuika replied, elongating her vowels and consonants. She cocked her head towards Moemi and smiled.

Chika walked over, a clear annoyance written across her face. "What the hell is going on here?" she said.

"Inaba-senpai, Mishima-san wasn't holding the cooler well enough, so I had to overcompensate," Haruna said.

"You again, Mishima?" Chika said and put a hand on her hips. All Moemi could do was hang her head.

She heard a laugh off to her side and another one behind her. Some voices in the crowd were loud enough to hear.

_Look at that. _

_Why is she wearing such a skimpy uniform? _

_This is tennis, not a strip club._

_I saw her spit on the court during the match._

_Disgusting_

She couldn't listen to it anymore. She covered her ears and pushed her chin into her chest as far as it would go. And she ran, away from the crowd and towards the locker rooms, where she could hole herself up in a bathroom stall and get away from all the people.

She heard Chika calling after her, but she kept running. Running until she shut and locked the door on a stall and curled into a ball on the floor by the toilet, nearly slipping and stepping her foot into it(2).

She listened to the rest of the team change out of their clothes and take showers. Everyone was talking about her, wondering what was going on, why she was being targeted. Those _bitches_, she thought. They knew all about it, but they did nothing. As she heard Manami and her minions walk through the locker room, the rest of the team moved on to different topics, some of them even engaging Manami and the others in cheerful conversation.

Why didn't anyone say something? Why did they turn the other way?

She felt the shame seep into her core and the tears that she cried were silent. Perhaps it was better this way. Not only practice, but also the matches were being affected by it now. Every time she was at the tennis court something happened to throw off the entire team.

They almost lost today because of her.

And they didn't want Manami coming after them.

Perhaps if she just laid low for a while, they would leave her alone. She was sure now that she wasn't going to play in another match, not for a long while.

The hum of people changing died away until all she could hear was the soft dripping of a leaky faucet. She unlocked the stall door and hoped that her locker was untouched as she went to change.

It seemed as if they thought she had received enough for today. Her street clothes were untouched. As she pulled her shirt and jeans over her soaked undergarments, Chika walked around the corner. She was in a light flowing dress and sandals.

"I'm very sorry for ruining your uniform. I'll be sure to take it home and wash it," Moemi said and bowed low.

Chika deeply sighed. "What's going on with you? Mishima? What did you do to earn all this?"

Moemi looked into Chika's eyes. So she knew. She knew all about Manami and yet…

"I'm not stupid," Chika said, as if reading her mind. "Like I said before, if you wanted to play in matches as a freshman, then you'd have to endure a few snide remarks from others. But this is way beyond jealousy. What did you do to them?"

"I…I didn't do anything," Moemi said. "It's Ishikawa Manami, she's…"

There wasn't anything she could say that would have been a good answer. Manami didn't like her, flat out. She never knew Manami before she joined the tennis club, she had never known her in high school or junior high. She could imagine that Manami was a popular girl. She was the focus of desire and envy at the konpas behind Inaba Chika and Tominaga Emi. After a turn of her beautiful face, people were like toys in her hand. Moemi supposed that she could be like that as well, if she really tried. Perhaps that was what Manami hated. But if it was just jealousy…Moemi didn't want to believe that such a simple reason could be behind Manami's wrath. Then again, Manami certainly acted like the type of person to fall prey to that kind of behavior.

Chika sighed at Moemi's silence. "You must have done _something_," she said. "People don't react like that because of jealousy!"

Moemi shook her head. "I didn't do anything wrong," she said in a low definitive tone.

Then her last argument with Yuika came to mind. _Stuck-up and confrontational. Unforgiving. Not giving people a chance_. She knew that Manami wouldn't have given her another chance. Then again, Moemi herself didn't do her best to make amends.

No! What was she thinking? How could you make amends with a person like that? She wasn't going to bow to them.

"Well, do you want to keep playing?" Chika asked. Moemi's answer was immediate.

"Yes, of course," she said. Chika nodded as she sighed.

"All right. Finish collecting the balls and then you can go. But I expect you to come back next term without all this drama."

"Yes, senpai," Moemi said.

"You're a fantastic player, Mishima, genius even. But if things keep happening like this, I can't let you play in matches. I hope you understand that I'm making an exception for you."

"Yes, senpai. I'm very sorry," she said and bowed again.

"Well…have a good break, Mishima," Chika said and walked away and out of the locker room.

Moemi saw very well how things were going to be from that point on. She would just have to endure, alone.

* * *

There weren't that many balls to pick up, just a few that had strayed to the corners of the court. She even got out the roller and went over the clay a few times, just for good measure. It was something that she didn't have to do, but whoever had the task before didn't smooth out all the pockmarks left by the players and the balls. She figured she was alone anyway, so she didn't have to worry about anyone playing more pranks on her.

She spotted a ball stuck under the net and went to pick it up. Just as she bent over, her hand reaching towards it, she heard the screeching wheels of the ball basket coming towards her at a fast speed. She instantly froze and managed to move her head enough to see it wheeling towards her. She tried to step back, but ran into the net and tripped, falling on the ground. She couldn't help the little yelp that escaped her mouth as she tried to shield herself.

But nothing hit her. The basket was stopped a few feet away.

"I just thought to help a bit."

"M-Mikami-san," Moemi said in astonishment. He had a ball in his hand and dropped it into the basket.

"Are you all right?" he asked and offered his hand.

She hesitated before taking it. He pulled her up with ease and took the ball from her hand, dropping that one in as well.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Doesn't look like it," he said as he wheeled the basket away.

"It goes over there," she said, pointing towards the clubhouse on the other side of the bleachers. "Let me take it."

She waited for him to let go before she started to push the basket to the clubhouse.

"Are those your things?" he asked and gestured towards a purse and plastic bag by the bench.

"Yes," she said.

She risked a glance behind her as she walked towards the clubhouse, wondering what he was doing here. He must have seen all that happened during the match, there was no way he didn't. He was just her math and science tutor who had shown no interest in anything but her test scores.

However, the only times he became talkative were when she showed up with bandages on her knees, or when KIRA showed up in the news and she was against it, and when she lashed out, claiming people were bad from the start. She almost didn't believe herself when she said it, but she had to admit that she felt companionship when he agreed with her. It was something she never got from Yuika.

When she came back from the clubhouse, he was waiting for her, her purse and plastic bag with Chika's uniform in his hands. She paused for just a second and said nothing as she walked over and took her things.

"Mishima-san, you're being bullied, aren't you?" he said.

She felt a small shock wave go through her. No one had said that word right out. Bullying. She was being bullied. He spoke it with such authority, such knowing. What gave him the right to talk about her like that.

"I'm fine, Mikami-san," she said and began to walk off the court. He followed.

"First it was your knees. Then your friend stopped coming for you after the tutor sessions," he continued.

She refused to answer to that and kept walking instead.

"Mishima-san," he called out as he closed the gap between them. She walked a little faster. "Mishima-san," he said again. He grasped her arm, right where Haruna had. She reacted without thinking.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled and ripped her arm out of his gentle hold.

He held his palms up, out in front of him in a harmless gesture. He didn't look surprised, but he didn't look please either. Moemi caught herself and relaxed a little.

"I'm sorry," she said. He shook his head.

"If you're being bullied, you need to tell someone," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm no fool. So don't think otherwise."

The chill that ran down her back could have been attributed to the drop of sweat that followed the trail of her spine. His voice had gone from concerned to threatening in no time. She didn't want to think of it as threatening, no, it was much more than that. Just by speaking he seemed to reach out and grab her by the neck. She placed her hands on her collarbone and let out the breath she was holding.

"Do you think they'll stop with today?" he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, though she had a perfect idea of what he was getting at.

"It's not going to stop until you give them what they want, whatever it is."

She looked down at his feet and frowned. "How would you know?" she said.

"Because all bullies are the same, one way or another," he said and walked towards her.

She honestly didn't know what to make of him. He was forward, not like Watanabe, but he didn't hesitate to voice his opinions and chastise where he thought it necessary. She wasn't sure if she should have been afraid or comforted by him.

Turning away again, she made her way around the corner of a building; she could see the university gate up ahead, and the world beyond the school.

"Mishima-san," she heard behind her.

Moemi whirled around and charged him down. She held out a hand in front of his face and made like she was about to push him back. Obviously reading her bluff, he didn't make any attempt to move closer. He could probably overtake her by force, if he wanted, but he just stood there, looking at her.

"Stop, just stop it!" she said, "I don't need help."

"Why? It's only going to get worse."

"Because it's none of your business!" she said before he finished.

She took a few steps back. He didn't follow. With a last glance she saw his frown and his eyes, disapproving, undaunted. The moment she said it, she felt a bond being broken. It was a bond, perhaps imagined up by herself, but there was something lost. A tie to someone who wanted to help, but she had no way to let him. Anything he did would only make things worse.

The expression on his face hadn't changed at all during their conversation. It was odd, and disheartening that he could say all that and not feel anything. She told herself that anyway. His eyes were so intense she barely had the nerve to meet them. Intimidation.

Moemi turned around before she could change her mind, walk up to him and beg for help. All she had to do was think of the tennis match, the jeers and the whispers and Chika urging her to endure, and she continued walking away from the school.

She didn't have the nerve to look back as she passed through the university gates. The world outside went on like it always had, but she still didn't feel any relief. They were out here too. Yuika could show up at her apartment at any time. If those girls could get into her locker whenever they liked, what would stop them from destroying her apartment?

Moemi found herself listening to different sounds on the walk to the train station. A high pinched laugh made her cringe and her eyes dart around, knowing Manami would be looking at her from behind; but it was always someone she didn't know. When people glanced at her in the train car, she was sure they had been at the match and recognized her. Their glances became stares and all she could think about was making it to her stop before something else happened.

As she gripped the handle and fought for her balance as the train rocked from side to side, her phone began to vibrate. She couldn't help jumping out her thoughts, her trance. A few people glanced her way before returning to their newspapers and video games.

Flipping open her phone, she saw a new message. Much to her disdain, it was from Watanabe.

_It's Hiro_, the message started. _I saw what happened at the tennis match today. I know it was Ishikawa and Fuji who set it up. I'll tell them to stop acting like a bunch of kids. I also saw that guy, the tutor, bothering you after the match. If you want, I'll make him leave you alone. Just let me know if you want to talk._

Watanabe Hiroyuki. He just didn't get it. She felt her heart speed to an inhuman rate when she read that he was going to talk to Manami. That idiot, he was part of the problem. With Yuika placing all her romantic fantasies on his head, confronting Manami would only make things worse. Furthermore, she couldn't believe he would take it on himself to go against Mikami Teru for something he didn't understand at all. That damn idiot. She already told him that she wasn't interested, she didn't like the anticipation of having to do it again. If anyone was going to help her, she didn't want it to be him.

She hit the reply button and typed as concisely as she could.

_Don't say anything to anyone. It has nothing to do with you. I don't need anyone to make like they're protecting me. Just stop. You don't understand._ She pressed send. It was as clear as she could make it without being a complete nasty. Although as she read it over again, she saw that it was a rude way of putting things. Watanabe wasn't going to like it.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message. She sighed and almost rolled her eyes, expecting Watanabe to insist his help would be great for her. But the message wasn't from Watanabe.

It was from Yuika.

It started out with a red heart shaped character, pumping its love every couple seconds, followed by a thumbs up.

_Today was really fun_, it said, _Now you know how it's going to be, friends forever, right? We really should have some more fun together, with everyone. Watch for us_.

What…the hell…

_Watch for us_.

What did that mean? Were they watching her right now? Did it mean that they would follow her, ready to jump her anywhere?

She looked around the train car again, expecting them to leap out of nowhere and throw something on her. The images of the day came to her. Her locker, uniform, water, pink underwear, insects, saliva, push push push until she couldn't take it anymore.

Her apartment. How did they get into her locker? How? If so, then…

When the train finally came to her stop, she pushed through the crowds of people and ran. She didn't slow down as she hurried her way through the gate and all the way to her apartment. The keys were out and reaching for the lock before she even made it to her building. Hands shaking, she fiddled with the doorknob and managed to turn it. She held her breath, couldn't contain her nerves as she stepped into the genkan. When she opened her eyes, she let go of her breath and burst out into tears.

The apartment was untouched. Everything was just as she had left it. A pile of clothes here, unwashed dishes there; nothing was out of place. But she felt no relief, she didn't feel safe at all. What kind of power did these people have over her if she was looking over her shoulder every second of the day. Would her apartment be left alone next time? When and where were they going to strike?

She didn't know.

Mikami Teru was right, they weren't going to stop. It was only going to get worse.

She just didn't know.

* * *

**Glossary**:

(1) **Ume**: Or _umeboshi_, which is pickled plum. It's a common filling for rice balls. It's very bitter and about an half-inch or an inch in diameter.

(2) **Toilet**: More specifically a Japanese toilet. Most of you probably already know, but a traditional Japanese toilet is a rectangular shaped hole in the ground/floor which one squats over. Just google search "Japanese toilet" to see a picture. Although Western toilets are very common in Japan, some schools, businesses, and most parks still utilize the traditional Japanese toilet. So this is why I wrote that Moemi almost "stepped in" the toilet, because it was on the floor.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not receiving any profit from writing this.

Ohhhh, I've been a baaaad girl! Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, and especially a HUGE thank you to those who are still reading this story. My god, has it really been over a year since I touched this? All excuses aside, I'm still working on it, let's see if I can get it done before the year is out! I've prepared an extra long chapter for you in compensation.

**Abrasions** Chapter 7

by lmh

* * *

Moemi hung the last of the laundry out to dry on the balcony(1) of her apartment. She fingered a hole in one of her t-shirts and reminded herself that she would have to go shopping for clothing, and groceries, and all the little things that made life convenient. She knew that at some point, she would have to leave her apartment.

She turned around and climbed her way back into the one room apartment, not even bothering to close the sliding door. The temperature outside was only marginally better than than inside…it was barely enough for her to open the windows. Every day she ended up wearing shorts and a tank top, and she didn't dare leave her apartment without a parasol to shield her from the brutal sun. She ended up doing a wash almost every day. It was such a chore to make sure she had sweat-free clothing to wear. But it didn't matter because as soon as she stepped outside she was covered in perspiration. She thought moving north would grant her somewhat better summers than what she always knew in Kyushu(2), but obviously Kyoto was just as much a victim to unbearable temperatures.

Sitting down beside her kotatsu(3), turned off for the season, she flicked on her laptop and prepared for the day's onslaught of emails.

Ever since the term ended and summer vacation started, Manami, Yuika, and the other girls flooded her inbox with messages that, had it been several months ago, would have inflamed her temper. Now she was just numb to it all. When she stopped answering her phone, as they called to shout at her, they resorted to texting her phone mail. When she refused to respond to those messages, they moved onto her email. Each message had gotten more and more creative over the weeks; defaming her, threatening to spread supposed pictures they had of her in compromising positions. She didn't know where they would have gotten those; she kept her blinds closed all through the night and almost never left her room. So she ignored it, just accepting the emails for what they were.

Then they got vicious. It was beyond calling her names and sending her threats. They began to compare her to things that were less than human. They told her she was a waste of space. _Why don't you just die?_

She knew it was ridiculous to let them affect her. It would serve no purpose for her to start to believe them, but as she realized the tiny pool of friends she had dwindled to basically no one, she began to feel solitude prodding at her. She often sat by herself, staring at her computer screen, reading the words over and over again. There was nothing else to do. She couldn't bring herself to do anything else; the drive wasn't there anymore.

She didn't practice tennis at all during the break. She was sure her level had gone down; there was no way she would be able to keep up in practice once the new term started. That is, if she decided to stay on the team.

The latest email had threatened bodily harm if she came to practice, if she dared to show anyone up. If that's what was waiting for her once she got back, she didn't see any reason to return. She didn't need the agony of Manami torturing her every day to add to her worries; school was enough.

She just barely passed all her final exams. The tutoring had helped, a lot, and she was glad to have gone for the help. But she didn't know what she was going to do in the coming term. There was no way she could go back to the tutoring office and risk seeing Mikami Teru again.

Moemi hadn't seen him since that day weeks ago, when he followed her from practice. He had always seemed so far removed from anything that wasn't directly connected to him, but when it came to the issue of her being bullied, he made a complete turn-around. His personality changed from quiet to annoyingly hounding after her. If he wasn't so reserved she would have counted him right along with Watanabe's kind.

He certainly got a rise out of her; she didn't think that was his intention, but there was something in him that made her recoil. When he got forward like that he made her want to cringe up into a ball and disappear.

And the way she yelled at him…

There was no way she could face him again. No matter how much he freaked her out he still hadn't done anything to harm her. He hadn't done anything to warrant her yelling at him; which made things even more frustrating. There was no reason for her to be frightened of him. There it was, she finally faced it. There was something about Mikami Teru that frightened her, but it was so intangible, she couldn't put a finger on it, and it was nothing to base her reactions on.

Yet why was he so interested in her, no; why was he so interested in the bullying?

She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. She went to college to escape the ridiculous problems of high school, and now she was experiencing even more than she had in the past.

A few loud raps on her door grabbed her attention. She froze as a different kind of fear ripped through her.

Was it Yuika or Manami? Or Haruna, who Moemi knew wasn't afraid to use violence to get her point across.

The raps came again, then turned into pounding on the door. As she began to crawl into a corner, she heard a voice calling from the other side.

"Mishima? Oi, Mishima, it's Hiro!"

She closed her eyes and sighed as she gripped her chest. Watanabe.

"You in there?" he yelled.

Moemi forced herself off the floor and walked over to the door. Stepping into a pair of slippers she leaned over the tiny genkan and unlatched the door. It swung outwards. From behind it stepped Watanabe.

He had shorn his hair almost to his scalp and his skin was so tan she thought he looked like he was from another country. His tennis racquet was sticking out the side of the sports bag he had slung over his shoulder. He was in street clothes, but the tennis sneakers he wore were yellowed and battered.

He glanced down at his own appearance and nervously laughed.

"Ah, sorry for showing up like this, I just came from practice," he said and rubbed the back of his head. He laughed again and shifted his weight.

The muscles under his skin were taught and well…he looked good, she thought. Yes, he was quite attractive. She looked him up and down once more. It was then she noticed he was holding a convenience store bag in his hand. He followed her eyes and lifted the bag up beside his face.

"Oh, I know it's kind of sudden, but I thought about having some ice cream?" he said and smiled the stupidest smile she had seen yet.

"…Is that why you came over here?" she asked. Her hand was still on the knob and she was ready to shut the door if she wanted.

"Well, that and I hear you haven't been going to summer practices."

Moemi stepped down into the genkan, her hand still on the door knob.

"You know, I didn't say anything to Fuji and Ishikawa that day," he said.

She looked up at him. "You didn't?"

"No, you told me not to, so I didn't; and you weren't very nice about it either," he said with a smile. Moemi looked down at her feet and frowned.

"I'm joking," he said and leaned under to look at her face. "You shouldn't let Ishikawa keep you from going."

"It has nothing to do with her!" Moemi yelled. Watanabe stepped back, his face wide open in shock. She caught herself and reined it in.

"It's obviously not 'nothing'," he mumbled.

She sighed and wiped the summer sweat off her forehead. "Look," she said, "You don't understand anything, so stop wasting your time."

She began to pull the door shut, but Watanabe stuck his sweaty hand in there and held it open. Try as she might, there was no closing it while he was there.

"Let go," she said.

"I came here to talk, just talk," he said.

"I don't want to talk," she said and pulled on the door again.

"Come on," he pleaded and pulled the door back his way. "I can't eat all this ice cream alone."

He smiled that stupid smile again and looked as apologetic as she'd seen anyone in her life. She let go of the door handle and watched as he swayed back a few steps.

"Just a second," she said and made the few feet from her 'kitchen' into the main room. She grabbed her phone, slung her purse over her shoulders and swiped up her keys. Walking outside she shut the door and locked it. "There's a park a couple blocks that way," she said and pointed.

Watanabe didn't move at first, and then he smiled. "Sure thing," he said and moved to the side as she took the lead.

It was the first time she had left the apartment for anything besides errands, food, and laundry. The sun was out in full force and she was drenched in sweat within five seconds. Dabbing at her face and neck with a handkerchief, she stole glances at Watanabe who was walking silently beside her.

Something was different about him. She wondered how he figured out where she lived, he must have done some intense sleuthing to come up with that. She didn't want to become any more entangled between him and Yuika. Clashing with Yuika meant provoking Manami, which was something she didn't need at all.

The silence was disturbing. He wasn't talking. He was always talking.

They rounded a corner and came upon the park. Children were swinging on the jungle gym and whirling around on the horizontal bars. The sounds of the city blasted their faces along with a hot gust of wind. Car horns honked, Children laughed, and there was ice cream to be had. For the first time all summer Moemi smiled.

"Here we go," he said and sat down on a bench. She dodged a boy that darted past her and settled in next to Watanabe. He slid closer. She stiffened her spine.

"What did you want to talk about?" she said.

There was a pause. The bag rustled as he dug out two spoons along with the ice cream cup. 'Vanilla Cookie Cream' she read on the lid before he ripped it off. He dug in first. She watched as he shoved a thick, whipped dollop of ice cream in his mouth, swirl it around, and swallow. He looked down at his feet and handed her the cup. She stuck her spoon in.

"I just, you know, it's about Fuji. And it's about Ishikawa," he said.

Moemi sighed. "What about them?"

He glanced at her and shook his head. "You know what I mean. About the match last month."

She licked the ice cream from her spoon and leaned back against the bench. As if she didn't think about that humiliating day enough.

"Are they acting this way because of me?"

Moemi didn't answer.

"Look, I know how Fuji feels. I did talk to her about it, honestly I did. But I told her sorry, I can't."

"Why? She fawns all over you, I'm sure she'd make the perfect girlfriend."

"And then she would leave you alone?"

She handed the cup back to him and folded her hands in her lap. She couldn't deny what she had thought about several times over. There were so many plans and procedures she had dreamed up to get Yuika and Manami out of her business. Watanabe and Yuika finally dating would be just one more solution to the massive problem.

"I'm not stupid, you know. Though I'm sure you think I am," he said.

"I don't," she started, but he plowed right on.

"But I know when people are going after someone. You can't deny it after that game, Mishima. What they did was straight up bullshit. I can't believe they went that far to embarrass you."

Moemi shook her head. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!" he shouted.

A few children and mothers nearby stopped abruptly and looked their way. Moemi jumped in surprise and clutched her spoon.

He glanced around, noticing the stares. There was a hint of rose color on his cheeks as he composed himself again. The ice cream in his hand was quickly turning to soup. Neither of them seemed to have much of an appetite. Never mind. She guessed the ice cream was just a ploy to lure her out anyway.

"It does matter," he said, quieter. "They can't do that. It's harassment, bullying, it pissed me off!"

The cup jumped as he slammed his hand into his knee. The vanilla soupiness splashed on the gravel beneath their feet. He didn't seem to care. Moemi, however, backed away. The more heated the discussion, the more animated he became.

"Besides, do you think I would date that kind of person? Ishikawa is a piece of scum, and so is anyone who follows her around."

She couldn't say anything, not in response to that. Being delicate with words was definitely not his specialty. Manami was scum, but she had never let herself say it like that, let alone think it.

"I can't date her anyway, I don't like her."

Her face heated up, if that was even possible to do more of in this weather. This was what he silence earlier meant. This was what he was worrying over.

"I like somebody else, and she knows it. I think that's why she gets so upset over it."

"Watanabe-san," she began. She had to stop him. The heat became unbearable and the ice cream was no good. She had to leave, she couldn't listen to this. But she was fixed on the bench, her legs wouldn't work. There was that same shock she felt when there was an email or message from Manami or Yuika. It was holding her to that bench, though all she wanted to do was run.

"Mishima," he said.

She shook her head. "Please, don't"

"Moemi, I like you, a lot, since that party at the beginning of the semester."

"Watanabe-san, please,"

"I'm sorry about what you've been through because of me, I know that I'm part of the reason they did that. But that's why you should let me talk to Ishikawa."

He reached over and laid his hand on top of hers. Still frozen to the spot, she couldn't think of what to do. He was going to come out with it sometime, she always knew it. She even knew, somewhere in the back of her head, when he showed up at her door, looking the way he did, smiling like everything was all right. She knew that he was going to do something.

If only she could have seen far enough into his actions. She really did underestimate him.

"Please stop," she finally said.

"Moemi…"

"Don't call me that, please."

"But, I'm telling you, I'll talk to Ishikawa, and Fuji too. I'll make them stop, and then, things will go back to the way they were."

His grip on her hand tightened and something inside her snapped. She stuffed the spoon back in the plastic bag and stood up.

"I have to go," she said and walked off back towards her apartment. Watanabe followed her, latching onto her elbow. "Let go!" she yelled.

A mother scooped up her child and moved to the other side of the park. Some passerby looked their way, and if Moemi wasn't mistaken, she thought there was someone from one of her English classes standing by the water fountain.

"I'm sorry," Watanabe said, but he didn't let go, just loosened his grip. "Mishima, I'll fix everything."

"Don't do anything, just let me go," she said and finally wrestled her arm from his grip. She turned around and walked away. Her heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, echoing throughout her body and into her head, beating, beating against her skull, so loud. She only made it a few steps until his arms locked around her. She yelped in surprise and froze, hunching her shoulders up and clamping her eye shut. Why was he touching her? Why did men always think it was okay to touch her like this?

"Please, just hear me out," he said and wrapped his arms further around her.

She couldn't calm her nerves and her breaths pushed in and out, faster and faster. There was a flash of light behind her eyes and she saw her room back in her parents' house. There was the boy from her junior high class, came over to study, brought his older brother, they were sons of a loan shark her father made bad deals with. They thought it was a good idea to study in her room, with the door shut. They wouldn't keep their hands off her, one wrapped his arms around her so she couldn't move, while the other did what he liked. She was only saved by her father, checking on them, he never was an advocate of locks on children's doors and he never thought to knock. The boys were thrown out. Her father decided to go to the police. Her father disappeared the next week. Never seen again. Grandparents paid off the debt, she and her mother moved to Fukuoka, started a new life. Why was Watanabe holding her hostage like this? Why did men think it was okay to touch her like this?

She couldn't see straight. She tried to walk a few steps forward, but he held her back. She grunted and tried again. No luck.

"I'll make everything better, just wait and see," he whispered in her ear.

Just wait and see, You won't want to resist, the boys had said to her.

"Moemi," Watanabe said.

She began to cry out loud, began to struggle. She didn't care if they were attracting more attention, she knew she had to get herself out of the situation. She had to run, as fast as she could. She had to get him to notice that she didn't want it. She would still resist no matter what he did.

There was a guttural burst in her throat that erupted into a scream.

"Stop it! Stop it, get off me!"

"Moemi, wait!" he said. She gasped and pulled at his hands, but nothing. The more she struggled, the tighter his arms got. It was like some freakish bondage torture.

She screamed once more and he finally let her go. Stumbling away she didn't stop to look back at him, didn't stop to hear him out. She bolted and ran back up the street towards her apartment. She was sure she looked like a lunatic, far different from the calm and confident image she wanted to portray.

Fumbling with the keys, she cursed again and again until the lock finally turned. She slipped inside and slammed the door behind her, making sure that she was locked inside. She didn't mind her shoes and lumbered into the main room. Her gasps filled the space around her and when she tripped on the genkan, she cried out and the tears began to flow.

That image, it was a matter of seconds, but it produced such a panicked frenzy. She hadn't even remembered it, all she knew was that there were several therapy sessions her mother made her go to.

…No, she did remember it, faintly. She knew it happened, but she hadn't thought of it for years and years.

She could still feel their hands all over her, prodding and hooking their fingers into her. She hated when men touched her, she couldn't stand it when they came on to her, forced themselves on her. It was bullshit, all bullshit.

Her stomach began to churn and her gasps turned to mucus filled gurgles. She crawled to the toilet room(4) and spit her stomach into the bowl. It was not as cathartic as she wanted. It only made her feel worse, dirty, disgusting.

Crumpled against the wall in the tiny room, her sobs overtook her. Things were never going to get easier.

* * *

She kept to her apartment, her futon, the windows stayed closed and the air was on full blast. For days she was huddled under the heavy winter blankets she pulled out of the closet. They kept out the light and insulated her in her own little world of futons and sheets. Her phone was ringing nonstop, the last time she checked it was all Watanabe. He left messages, sent texts, emailed her computer account, and she ignored it all.

There was no way she was going to speak with him again, not after what he did. He probably didn't realize the damage he was causing, which angered her to no end. He didn't know that he had gripped her arms tight enough to leave light bruises. He was an idiot if he thought she would start a relationship with a man who couldn't keep his anger in check.

Her phone buzzed again and sang the sing-song tune of a text message. Moemi left it where it was on her kotatsu. She wasn't answering any more calls or emails, if it wasn't for the one connecting line with her mother and grandparents, she would have gotten rid of the phone a long time ago. What was the point of it when all she ever got was abuse from people who were supposed to be her "friends"?

There was a deep rumbling in her stomach, audible even under all the layers of blankets. So, she hadn't eaten anything in the past day, and her fridge was empty; but the risk of going to the grocery store was too great. Her apartment was in a part of town popular to university students for the cheap rent. She knew for a fact that Yuika lived not five minutes away, and she could bet Watanabe was cruising the streets waiting for a "chance encounter" with her. She needed food, but she needed to stay out of sight.

Her stomach grumbled again and she felt an intense hunger pain that came from drinking water and instant miso soup for three days. Sighing to herself she pushed the blankets off herself and went about getting dressed and looking presentable. She wore shorts, a loose t-shirt and sneakers, in case she needed to run.

It wasn't much different from outside, she knew what to expect, but a few days huddled up in an air-conditioned paradise had softened her up. The heat outside was immense. It wasn't just the heat, it was the humidity. Her skin was secreting buckets of sweat within seconds.

She made the short walk to the grocery store, all the while looking over her shoulder and making notes of the people she passed. Countless times she thought she saw Watanabe or Manami with Yukia, but of course it was someone else, strangers who didn't look twice as she walked by them.

The street markets were alive with people shopping and bargaining for deals. It would be better for her pocket book if she shopped out here, but she didn't want to have the disadvantage of such an open space. There were hundreds of vantage points she could be viewed from. There was no way she was going to open herself to that kind of scrutiny. No, inside the grocery store there were things she could hide behind. She could disappear up another level if she needed.

The air conditioned department store was another paradise and people took full advantage of that, lounging around at the small shops and kiosks, socializing away from the heat. People sauntered through the main concourse, sat next to the fountain, had lunch at the restaurants and fast food shops lining the walls. Moemi waded through the crowd and found the grocery store, its entrance lines with cash registers chiming and employees welcoming shoppers.

Taking a basket up she aimlessly wandered up and down the aisles, seeing a package of some stuffs here, a carton of liquid there. Sighing to herself she began to grab at random. Did she need freeze dried kara-age? Sure. Five containers of nattou(5)? Seemed as good as anything else. There wasn't much of anything she cared about anymore.

Nothing much left, really.

She used to love tennis. Playing was one of the few things that kept her mind occupied and away from darker thoughts. Summer practices weren't mandatory, but there was an unspoken code that you went to them if you wanted to show dedication. Now, "banned" from summer practices, there was no way she was going to have a spot on the match roster when the fall semester started.

A colorful package of sushi caught her eye on the refrigerated shelf below her. She picked it up and dropped it in her basket without a look at the price. Money. There was money deposited in her account every month by her mother. It was enough for rent, food, laundry, textbooks and anything else she might have needed. It was a glaring fact that her supply of money was steadily growing since summer began.

It wasn't a bad thing, she supposed. She had more money for all sorts of things now, though what she was going to spend it on was news to her. She wasn't going to spend anything if she never left her apartment.

She sidled up behind a person in line and waited her turn to cash out and head back to her hovel. It was busy today…what day was it, she wondered and fished her phone out of her pocket and realized that she'd lost entire weeks to doing nothing and not keeping track of time. School could have started and she wouldn't have known.

But she was all right, for now, as she saw it was August the twenty-fourth. Classes started again next week on the first. She sighed to herself and set her basket on the conveyer belt and half listened to the cashier list off her items and prices, and half debated her options at the beginning of the semester.

Tennis was out if Manami and her minions were still on the team. There was no way she could go to practice and not have something happen to her, they wouldn't allow it. She wasn't going to make it easy for them to embarrass her.

That realization hit her harder than she anticipated. Tennis had been her life, something she shared with her father and treasured more than any possession she had. Now she had no choice but to quit. It wasn't fair. She was a damn good player and a group of girls had made it impossible for her to play.

The anger she felt the first few times had given way to shame and fear. Every time she picked up her racquet she felt her nerves pop in an unpleasant way. She hadn't touched the thing in a month. Her ruined uniform still sat in a bag somewhere in her room, possibly under a pile of other things she no longer cared about. All she had now was her school work, nothing else.

She handed over a few bills, taking a sideways glance at the register to make sure of the total. The cashier thanked her and held out a plastic bag full of her groceries. Moemi nodded her thanks and walked out into the department store concourse.

A loud, shrieking laugh to the left caught her attention. She knew that laugh, recognized it from the Waseda match. Panic instantly took root.

Manami, Yuika, Haruna and Rie were emerging from one of the shops, carrying ice cream cones and licking away as they talked and laughed between one another.

Moemi felt a chill come over her, like a bucket of freezing water being dumped on top of her. She looked to her right, in front of her, looking for an exit, an escape. The escalator was to the left, directly behind the girls. Going to her right would work, only that they would be following her. There were people milling about, shielding her for the moment, but they wouldn't stay there forever. She turned back around to the grocery store, thinking she could hide in there until they passed. It seemed like a good option.

The laughter grew louder and Moemi pushed past one person, trying to get back into the grocery store when the curtain of people parted and Yuika looked up.

Their eyes locked. It took less than a second for Yuka to recognize her, but in that moment Moemi felt her body, her senses go into overdrive. Her face was growing hot. Her hands were shaking and all she was thinking a second ago was gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered fear.

Yuika's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something. Moemi didn't wait to find out what it was. She turned around and went forward, not looking back and trying to keep the panic down. She turned left, down the concourse on the other side of the fountain form them. The voices were still behind her, she could hear them calling out her name. Her breathing had become erratic, quickened.

She took another left and gained the escalator, sprinted up the moving stairs, knocking people aside and still the voices were behind her.

The next floor was clothing. People milled about, browsing through racks. A group of younger girls screeched out over the cuteness of a shirt, startling Moemi, making her jump, and she still heard her name being called. She all but sprinted down the way making it to the next escalator. The exit…she didn't see it right away and that option was immediately wiped from her mind. She had to get away, hide somewhere.

So she went up to the third level, house wares. She realized it was an obvious mistake when she saw there were hardly any people there. She stopped and looked around. There was no going back down; they would see her for sure. She could hide, yes, she thought, wondering if they would get tired of chasing her. She moved a few steps away from the escalator towards a kiosk advertising frying pans and walked around behind it.

The bag of groceries was getting heavy; she wondered how a few items wrapped in plastic could ever tire her out when there was a wet smacking against the back of her head. It was cold and moved like molasses as it seeped into her hair and dripped down her back. She lifted her free hand and felt around behind her, only to have her fingers dipped into a cold sticky substance. Ice cream.

She gasped and looked at her finger tips. White, viscous liquid covered them and smelled like sweet vanilla.

She whipped around and faced Yuika.

"Hi, Moemi-chan," she said and smiled.

Haruna appeared beside her and behind, Manami and Rie came around the kiosk. Moemi looked to the other side and saw Haruna close the gap between herself and a row of shelving.

She tried to quash the panic that filled her and frowned, hardening her gaze. The ice cream had fully descended down the back of her hair and there was a loud plop as it hit the floor.

"Now look what you've done," Yuika said.

"Why won't you just leave me alone," Moemi finally said. "I'm quitting tennis, I'm staying out of your way. You've got what you wanted, so leave me alone!" It was something she never wanted them to know, but there it was. The last few bits of her pride.

She pushed forward but Haruna stuck her hand in Moemi's face and pushed her back. She stumbled over the ice cream on the floor and backed into Manami.

"Ew!" screeched the girl and pushed back. "She almost got the ice cream on me."

Moemi flew towards Haruna again, who grabbed her shoulders and pushed her again. She slid sideways on the wet floor and slammed into the kiosk of boxed frying pans, sending a few to the floor.

"Causes nothing but trouble where ever she goes," Rie said and slapped Moemi's shoulder.

"You know, Moemi-chan," Manami said. "We're really glad that you're taking our suggestions to heart, really, we are." They all nodded. "But, when I look you in the eye, there's something there, it really pisses me off. Just the sight of you pisses me off."

"Me too," Yuika said and slapped a hand against her head. "You think you're better than everyone else."

"So selfish," Rie chimed in.

"Ashiwara-kun said he saw her in the park with Watanabe-san a few days ago, kissing and hugging," Haruna said.

So that person she recognized was from her English class, she just couldn't remember a name. It didn't matter who he was, really, just that he saw her there with Watanabe, and saw the whole scene as it went down, was enough to give people fuel.

Yuika's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they narrowed and stared Moemi down. So, no one told her about it.

"I thought you didn't like him," she said and took a step into the little circle they formed.

"Well, she's obviously lying," Haruna said before Moemi could speak up. "Ashiwara-kun said they were real close." she too stepped forward and brought her face inches from Moemi's. "Real close, like this, rubbing up against each other."

"Sick," Rie said. Yuika's eyes were tearing up, whether it was from anger or hurt, Moemi couldn't tell. All she knew what that she was now having to defend herself from some intense lies.

"That's not true!" she said, facing Yuika.

"Then what were you doing in the park with him?" Manami said.

"Eating ice cream, out of the same cup, with the same spoon! Licking it out of each other's mouths!" Haruna said. Now that was a flat out lie.

"I wasn't!" Moemi started.

"You weren't at the park with Watanabe-san?" Manami said.

"No, I mean—"

"Liar."

"I bet she took him back to her place," said Haruna.

Yuika sucked in a trembling breath and balled her fists at her side. "You bitch," she hissed.

"I did not! I ran away. He—"

Yuika's hand jutted out and pushed Moemi back, hard. She stumbled over herself, slipped on the ice cream again, but this time Manami and Rie weren't there to catch her. She fell straight back and caught herself on a shelf holding more cooking ware.

"You self-righteous hypocrite!" Yuika said with enough venom to make Moemi flinch.

She righted herself and made to walk away. Just walk away, get out of the situation before it got worse, before you made it worse for yourself.

"Where you going?" Rie said from behind her and the next thing she saw were pops of light in her vision and there was a sharp pain from the back of her scalp. She yipped out loud and her hand shot back before she could begin to register that her hair was being pulled.

"Look at this bitch," she heard Haruna say. Another hand grabbed a clump of hair and pulled her another way.

"Stop it!" she said and flailed her arms, catching nothing. The hands had disappeared as soon as they yanked on her.

"No Watanabe-san to save you now."

"What does he see in her?"

"She's an easy girl, no reason to refuse easy ass."

"Slut."

"Whore."

"Just the sight of her is so annoying."

"Just disappear."

"Why don't you just die?"

By this time they had been shoving her around their little circle, not caring to keep their voices in check. Moemi could barely keep focus in the commotion, as she was trying to keep their hands off her, and failing miserably.

There was a hard kick to the back of her right knee. Sharp, shooting pain traveled up and down her leg and both buckled underneath her and she collapsed on the slick linoleum floor with a sickening slap. The plastic bag, full of her groceries flew through the air in an arc as she held onto the handles. It smashed on the floor and milk began to flow everyone as the lid to the carton she bought popped off.

"What's this?" A department clerk came walking up to the spectacle, her eyes wide and astonished. She stepped sideways to miss the milk seeping out over the floor. Her eyes went from Moemi, who was picking herself up to rest on her hands, to the girls standing behind her.

"What's wrong with you, Haruna?" Manami said and swooped down on the situation. Moemi recoiled from her touch and was ready to slap her hand away when she looked up into the girl's face, and she lost any thought she had.

Manami was looking down on her with what could only be described as total benevolence. Her eyes were soft and inviting, full of concern and her voice, sweet and caring as she admonished Haruna and asked Moemi if she was all right.

She glared at Manami, not quite sure where this was coming from, but she could guess why.

"I'm sorry, my friends just don't know when to stop," the girl said to the clerk, who looked at Moemi with an inquisitive frown that didn't look wholly convinced.

"I'll have to clean all this up now."

"I'm terribly sorry," said Manami.

The clerk shook her head and waved her hands at them. "Just pick up what you can and leave, please." She turned around and walked away, shooing onlookers away.

When it seemed as if no one else was looking Manami pushed Moemi back down to the floor. Yep, that was it, Moemi thought.

"Why do I always have to be the scapegoat?" she heard Haruna say.

"Because you're so physical all the time. It's natural," said Rie.

"Shut up." Manami stood above Moemi and if it weren't for the fact that they were in a very public place, she wouldn't be surprised if the girl stomped on her back and ground her foot down for all she was worth.

"Crank-y," Haruna mumbled.

"It's all her fault," said Manami as she kicked. Moemi scooted away, placing her hands under body and pushing up. Manami kicked at her again, this time under her body and into her ribs.

"_I_ get physical?" Haruna said.

"Let's just get out of here. I don't want to even look at her," said Yuika as she walked around the puddle of milk and discarded foods.

"Yuika, she needs to learn her place," Manami said.

Moemi scooted away enough space when Manami had focused on Yuika; enough to push herself to a sitting position. She didn't understand what just happened. Hell, she didn't understand anything these girls did. She just sat there, covered in ice cream and milk, staring down at her hands. Her knee was throbbing as she felt the blood rush through the veins and to every bit of her body that was deprived circulation.

She just didn't know anymore, didn't listen as the girls talked above her, not paying attention to the people who passed by. She was surprised that they had the guts to pull something like this off in public. Although there weren't as many people watching, this was worse than the tennis match, worse than destroying her locker. They went after her, deliberately, physically went after her. It was more than throwing garbage on her things, more than dumping water on her. They stepped on her, dumped garbage on her, made things she once enjoyed a burden.

They broke her.

She broke, right there in the middle of the house wares department.

"Let's just go," she heard Yuika say again. So the girl had finally lost the taste for her new friends. "I'm just sick of thinking about her."

Apparently not.

Manami was having none of it, as her voice took on a hard edge. "What are you going to do when she shows up for practice when term starts?"

"She won't," Yuika said. "Now let's go." There was a pause, and Manami sighed. "Please," said Yuika.

"Yes, I think you should leave."

Every head turned up towards the deep voice. Moemi knew it, heard it so many times before and she was even unfortunate enough to hear his voice like this; hard, menacing, barely laced with anger.

Mikami Teru was standing above her, next to them and the frown on his face matched the darkness in his voice.

Manami took a step to the side, but she didn't back down. Moemi didn't think she would.

"Who are _you_?" she said.

He glanced her way before looking down at Moemi. The moment their eyes met she turned her head down, focusing on her hands again. She couldn't fathom what he was doing there again. She told him she didn't need any sort of help from him, help only made things worse, as she'd learned from Watanabe.

"I said, who are you?" she said again.

He simply ignored Manami, sidestepped her and walked straight across the puddle of milk to Moemi. Kneeling in front of her, he ran his hand down the back of her head, brushing off the ice cream that was stuck there. Moemi took in a sharp breath at his touch. She tensed up when he gripped her shoulders.

"You all right?" he said in low tones. If he wasn't so close she would have never heard him.

She didn't dare look up, didn't dare glance at his face. She'd seen his eyes like that before, the last time he confronted her about…what was going on. Those eyes frightened her. They were barely kind, although full on concern. She wouldn't be able to keep a straight mind while looking at him.

"I was speaking to you," Manami said. She took a secure stance and placed her feet a shoulder's width apart. Her right foot twitched, tapping lightly on the linoleum.

"You get off on bullying?" Mikami-san said. Manami balked and took a step back.

"Who the hell are you to care?" she said.

He ignored her. His grip on Moemi tightened and he pulled her to her feet. She hadn't noticed just how much they had affected her until she found that her legs weren't working properly. Mikami-san had to pull her up all the way. She gasped the slightest and immediately gripped his arms. He didn't let go once she was up and she didn't let go of him, especially not when she heard Rie's voice chirp up behind her.

"Is this your boyfriend, Moemi-chan?" she said with a twittering laugh in her voice.

"Or her pimp, just looking after his assets. No wonder Watanabe-san follows her around," Haruna said.

Rie gasped. "So that's it! I knew no one would like her just because."

"Shut up!" Manami said. Her voice was becoming more and more forceful as Mikami-san refused to acknowledge her. Mikami wrapped his arm around Moemi's shoulder's and pushed through them, leading her to the escalator. "Where are you going?" Manami called after them.

"None of your business," he said.

Moemi was barely paying attention. She was tripping over herself as they walked, still not sure just how she should put one foot in front of the other. What was he doing here? How did he always find her when it was the greatest possible chance for her humiliation?

There were footsteps following from behind, voices calling after them. She could hear the words 'whore' and 'slut', even 'bitch' coming after her and she seized up, froze, waiting for something to hit her in the back again.

A hand came up on the right side of her head and covered her ears, pressing her head into his chest. Mikami's voice was in her ear, far gentler than before.

"Don't listen to it, just keep walking," he said and led her down the escalator, through the department store, past all the stores she couldn't recognize, or didn't care to recognize, until she felt the heat of summer on her face.

His palms on her skin felt hot and sweaty as they walked, but she wasn't thinking about that. All that was on her mind was the feeling of the ice cream seeping through her hair and hitting her scalp; the sharp pain as a sneaker hit the back of her knee; slipping over a wet floor and falling face first into a puddle of milk.

She finally glanced up and took in the sky, squinting her eyes against the bright sun. …And she choked back a wad of phlegm…and her head drooped again, and she shut her eyes, tried to hold back.

It was only when Mikami shook her lightly she realized he was speaking to her. It took some effort to pack away her thoughts and listen to him. They had stopped. A few blocks away from the department store, near a park, the same park Watanabe…

"Mishima-san," Mikami said.

She finally looked up into his eyes and she froze.

He wasn't angry. He wasn't upset or even irritated. His eyes were kind, warms, and yes, that intense concern was there. She'd seen that before, yes, but no kindness. There was nothing more than cold concern before. But now…

"Where is your apartment, Mishima-san?" he asked.

His eyes were brown, were they always brown? She couldn't remember; she almost smiled at the thought.

"Mishima-san?"

She blinked, brought herself back. Tearing her gaze away she looked around, searching for clues as to where they were. The park. Yes. When she was last here… She lifted her arm and pointed up a side street.

"That way," she said.

Without another word, he gently nudged her forward, not letting his hands stray from her shoulders. They must have looked a sight, standing that close in broad daylight, but she was tired, sore, and just didn't have the energy to care at this point.

They reached her building soon enough, she noticed how she walked on the other side of the street from the park, and Mikami didn't say anything about it. He went up the stairs with her, to the second level and stood outside her door, waiting for her to fish her keys out of her pockets. It took a few seconds for the dexterity to return to her fingers. If he was annoyed he didn't say anything, didn't let it show.

The door swung open, she stepped onto the genkan, his hands left her shoulders, and she turned around to face him.

What could she say? Thank you? He was always there at the worst time, ready to see her in the most embarrassing situations. It was like he had a radar to figure out where she was at any moment, ready to watch her again, and again.

He just stared at her, and she kept her gaze down. His arms hung at his side, not doing anything. He looked like such a freak standing there. Did he spend all his time stalking her? Was this the reward she got for returning his envelope to him? Was this the payment he was taking for offering his tutoring services?

And she immediately felt the guilt flush over her for those thoughts.

And she cursed Manami for taking away her ability to trust. She cursed Watanabe for opening up things she locked away, but then she couldn't be so angry with him for that, he didn't know what her life was like before he met her.

But he didn't have to hold her down like that.

She sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back.

"Mishima-san…"

She kept her gaze down.

"You can't deny what's going on."

She leaned out and put her hand on the door knob.

"I told you—"

"You told me nothing," she interrupted. "Nothing happened."

"Can you hear yourself right now?"

Yeah. It sounded so fake, she wanted to laugh at herself.

"Why are you defending them?" he said.

And she snapped her head up, frowning, tears singing at the corners of her eyes.

"Defending them? _Defending them?_ I hate them! I wish I never met them, all of them!" she yelled and pulled on the door. He slapped his hand on it and held it open.

"Then why are you keeping silent?"

She looked down at her feet, at the door, the sky, inside her apartment, anyplace but his face, because if she looked him in the eye again she would break down, further than she already had and then there would be nothing left.

"Mishima," he said and stepped closer.

"Do you know what you've done?" she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. His silence was the only indication that he was really listening. "They already think I'm doing…stuff with Watanabe-san, then you show up…"

"I don't care what they think," he said.

"It doesn't matter! You pissed them off. Who do you think they'll take it out on? You? You're never around until I'm about to be humiliated."

"I happened to be grocery shopping when I saw you dart up the escalator."

She barked out a laugh and stared at the sky, blinking as much as necessary to keep the sting in her eyes back. "Right," she said and laughed again, looking back down. "It was just a coincidence you walked by when I was picking up the tennis balls. Coincidence you were at the match last term."

"I went to the match because you mentioned it," he said, "You asked me."

"And you wanted to nose around to see Ishikawa for yourself."

"That girl?" he said, probably not knowing Manami's name. "You're right. What they did to your knees was deplorable. I needed to see them for myself."

"You 'needed to see'? It's none of your business. You, you've only made things worse. I didn't ask for you to make a charity case out of me!"

"No, you didn't."

She was close, close to letting go, letting herself burst because she couldn't hold it back much longer.

"But I chose to care, which is more than anyone else has done." he stepped forward again and put his hand over hers on the door knob. She instantly recoiled, but he didn't let her back up. He held her hand there. "Don't push away the one person who will believe you."

She gasped in a heaving sob, and wrenched her hand free, covered her mouth to hide the sounds. She turned her back on him. There was no way she could let him see her cry. He had to leave.

"I don't need you to save me," she ground out.

There was silence, she couldn't hear the sounds of his breathing, only her gasps as she tried to hide the fact that she was crying, not that he hadn't noticed. There was the creaking of the door and it latched behind her. The light inside the apartment went out. There was a scuffing of shoes on the pavement outside her door, then the steady thumps of someone walking down the stairs, and soon enough the sounds were completely gone.

He was gone.

What he had said was true, that was her last chance to tell. What just walked away was the last time she would ever hear anyone ask if she was all right and not want something for it. She knew he wanted to do good. He didn't want anything from her, he never asked for anything and he certainly didn't try to take anything from her.

Yet she still pushed him away.

She couldn't trust him, even if there was nothing to fear.

But that wasn't right either.

For however kind his eyes were when he picked her up off that department store floor, once he brought her back he changed. The face she saw when they talked about KIRA in the library, when she asked him if people were born bad, and when he told her that the…bullying would only get worse.

There was something there, she didn't understand. A…if she could even say, a hatred for something. When he looked at Manami, or Watanabe. Or, she wondered, a hatred for her; a hatred for her weakness.

Minutes passed by, ten, twenty, thirty, she didn't quite know. Wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands, she pushed herself up. So now she had gone out, experienced another humiliation and still had nothing to show for it. She wouldn't be able to force herself outside for another week. She wasn't going to deny it. She'd stay in her apartment until she had to leave for class. She hated the thought of classes and running into those people, but she had her grades to keep up, and the hopes of her family on her shoulders.

She vaguely wondered what she would have for dinner and physically wilted at the thought. No food. Left it in the department store.

There was a rap at the door.

She slowly turned, paused, waiting to hear the sound again. She wasn't sure if she actually heard it. Maybe she was still in shock.

The knock came again and this time she shuffled back towards the door. A small panic gripped her but she squashed it down. She heard it once more before a faint call came from the other side.

"Mishima-san."

It was Mikami again. She didn't open the door, but leaned against it, placing her hands on flat on the vertical surface and rested her ear there. What exactly about "it's none of your business" did he not understand?

She caught herself on that.

Just a half an hour ago she was crying, wishing that she had the strength to trust someone, and here she was, wishing he would go away.

"Mishima-san," he said again.

She touched the door knob, felt the cool metal under her fingers, gripped it, and turned. She gasped.

There was Mikami, standing there, as if he had never left. Except he had a plastic grocery bag in his hands. He was a little winded, perhaps from climbing the slight incline that started on the way up from the last block. He took a large breath and exhaled, holding out the bag for her to take.

"What?" she said.

"This entire day shouldn't be a waste," he said as she wrapped her fingers around the plastic handles.

She held the bag open, examining the contents. What she saw did more for her in that moment than anything she had experience in the last few hours.

There was a bag of freeze-dries kara-age, five containers of nattou, a package of brightly colored sushi, a few other things, and a carton of milk.

Moemi pawed through the bag, not quite believing what she saw, but there it was, all the items she had bought at the store earlier.

She looked from the bag to Mikami, back to the bag, and all the while she felt her chest flutter and her face heat up.

"But…how…?" she began.

"I saw what was on the floor."

"You didn't have to…"

"I did."

She couldn't answer. If she said one thing more she was going to start crying again. Damn it all! Just when she had encased herself in a world that didn't involve anyone else; just when she had convinced herself that she would have to get by on her own, he went and did something like this.

Her arms went limp, she dropped the bag and brought her hands to her face. She wanted to collapse, instead she just let it go. She didn't hold back.

"Thank you." It was just a whisper at first, but she wanted him to hear it. "Thank…"

She started wailing.

It was all too much. Who was this person? There was no question in her mind anymore about his intentions. He never even asked for her to reimburse him. He just went out and did it because it was what you did for others. She felt guilty, ashamed, weak for not trusting, not believing that someone would help just because they wanted to, not because they would benefit from it.

She did start to collapse, and he caught her around the shoulders. She latched onto his shirt, buried her face there and bawled for all she was worth. Her body heaved under the sobs and he didn't seem to care; just stood there like an immovable monolith. A rock.

Arms encircled her and drew her in close and she stepped in as far as she could go into that warm, safe place. She cried and cried until it was nothing more than a small whimper. He bowed his head and she felt his breath against her neck.

"It gets better," he said in her ear.

She sniffled. "Does it?" She felt him nod against her.

"Yes. Doesn't seem like it now, but it will."

She frowned and scrunched up her face as she felt another wave of tears coming. "Why do you care?" she asked.

"Because I know what it's like to have no one value your existence."

She closed her eyes against his chest and tightened the grip she had around his shirt. "That's so honest," she said.

"Someone in this world has to be honest. Hardly enough people respect the privilege of life."

Privilege? No, it was more of a right to life, and no one respected it. People passed their own judgment and decided who had the 'privilege' to live. She wanted to be the kind of person who valued every type of existence. She didn't want to squander hers'.

She wanted to believe that things would get better.

Would they?

"Now look at you, dropping things again. I'm not going to buy another carton of milk; it's quite expensive this week."

It took her a moment to realize that he had made a joke, but once she did she was chuckling and in turn laughing. Not because it was particularly funny, but because it felt right. His joke did its job.

Yeah, things could get better.

* * *

Glossary

1. Balcony. Most apartments in Japan have a balcony, or veranda (it's all semantics of there!). However, it's mostly used as a space to hang out laundry to dry.

2. Kyushu is the southernmost island of Japan (not including Okinawa/the Ryukyu chain of islands). The largest city on Kyushu is Fukuoka. Nagasaki is also on Kyushu. It's very hot and humid there in the summer (trust me, ugghhhh…)

3. Kotatsu is a table with a heater suspended below the removable tabletop. One places a blanket under the top and the heater will heat the space under the blanket, creating a nice, warm spot to warm your legs in the winter (since a lot houses don't have central heating).

4. Toilet room. Bathrooms in Japanese houses/apartments are usually split up into several different rooms. The toilet has its own room, since doing 'business' is a completely separate activity from bathing. The sink console usually has its own room with the bathtub/shower as an offshoot room. Googling Japanese bathing practices will give a much more in depth explanation.

5. Nattou is fermented soy beans. It comes in small Styrofoam containers, is very slimy, smelly, and gives one really bad breath. Not to mention it's disgusting (IMO!), though many Japanese people cite it as one of their favorite foods. Go figure.

* * *

So there it is, chapter 7. Did you like it? I had some incredibly clever "bad" joke that Mikami was going to say at the end there, but I got distracted and lost it. So I had to replace it with something sub-par T_T. So there's the lesson! Have a stroke of genius? Write it down! Anyway...I think the rating is about to go up here...tell me what you think.

Thanks for reading, see you in the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not receiving any profit from writing this.

Thank you to all those who read and reviewed the last chapter. It makes me unbelievably happy to know that so many of you are still reading! It boosts my motivation by thousands of points! Haha. I tried my best to get this chapter out before April ended, but well, here we are, the 3rd of May. Oh well. Hope you enjoy this one!

**Abrasions** Chapter 8

by lmh

* * *

September. The end of summer break, but not the end of summer heat. The air conditioning was still on full blast in Moemi's apartment and she didn't care how much it was racking up her electricity bill. Though she supposed that she should turn it off when she wasn't there at least; especially since she was going to be gone a lot more now.

The end of summer break also meant classes would be starting again. She got all her homework done, read all the required pages, and she even did extra practice on her math equations and problems, just in case the professor decided to spring a test on them. She wouldn't put it past the old man. He was the type of professor who knew most of his students took the class for a graduation credit, and he certainly didn't make it an easy A for them. Moemi figured she needed to do all she could to just pass a test.

The help she got from Mikami Teru didn't hurt either.

She should have been embarrassed for breaking down in front of him. After all that she still felt a slight rush of heat to the face whenever she saw him. Of course he noticed that and brushed it off with nothing more than the blink of his eyes and a change of the subject. He told her that there was nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. He offered his advice and she listened. It was like he had turned her into his little pet project.

That didn't sound right, not project, but he took a greater interest in her since then. It was more like he was watching her…watching over her.

Which was probably why he was calling her this morning.

"What time is your first class today?" he asked her.

She was holding the phone in one hand and rummaging through the mess that was her apartment with the other, stuffing the necessary items into her satchel.

"Nine," she simply answered and wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear. Pulling on the drawstring she pushed on the stopper and the satchel shut close. "Algebra."

She heard a quiet hum on his side of the line. "I've been practicing the equations," she quickly added. "I should be prepared if he springs a quiz on us."

"Do you think there will be one?" he said.

She shrugged her shoulders despite the fact that he couldn't see her. "I don't know. That's the point, isn't it?" she said and huffed out a small laugh.

"I suppose."

She smiled at the simple answer, knowing that getting this much out of him was rare. If there was one thing he wasn't good at, it was the small talk like this; but he was trying. He was making a real effort to get her to move on, see the other side of things. He was doing that a lot lately.

It wasn't in his nature to seek out others; that much she could recognize. He was one who did things he thought were worth his time and he certainly wouldn't waste that time on her if he felt she didn't deserve it.

That was a small comfort, she thought. It was a great comfort when she started to believe it, she saw it. He called her most days, checking up on her, asked if she had encountered any other problems. He didn't take any other big steps like shopping for her groceries again, but he always had his finger on the pulse of the situation. She figured that once she opened up, let him know that it was okay to tell her how it was, then he decided to step forwards and take matters into his own hands.

Granted, he didn't meddle, not at all. He didn't push at things she might have clammed up for. It was astonishing, amazing that he could read her so well. Or…or he had experience with these things.

_"I know what it's like to have no one value your existence."_

He wasn't just reading her, he understood what she was going through. Perhaps he'd seen it happening to others before, or it had happened to him.

_"Value your existence."_

It was so personal, expressive, and laden with hints and suggestions. He didn't seem embarrassed by it. Rather, he seemed empowered by it, like a battle weary soldier who had lived through some terrible ordeal.

Silly image aside, she suspected that whatever history was behind that statement of his, that was the reason for the darkness in his eyes, why it frightened her to look at him when she first met him. She sighed.

"What's wrong?" she heard him say.

She started, almost forgetting he was on the other end of the line.

"Nothing," she said. There was another low hum from him; he didn't buy it, but she pushed past it. She didn't think he would appreciate her musings on him. "What about you, what does your day look like?" She hoped it sounded conversational, but it just ended up sounding unnatural and ridiculous.

He humored her. "Meetings, then tutoring."

Oh.

"How about I walk you to class?"

What?

"What?"

"Let me walk you to class," he said.

Walk her to class? Walk her to class! Was he really that worried? She almost didn't believe it.

"I have to take the train," she said, knowing that it was, at the very least, a twenty minute game of waiting for the train and then walking from the station to campus.

"I know that, and it's no problem. I have to take the train too."

"But it could be in a completely different direction than you usually go."

"It's not. You're on the way, actually." He had an answer for everything.

"They haven't bothered me for a while now," she said, knowing that it was because of him she hadn't experienced anything.

"You have some classes with them, don't you?"

"Yes, but-,"

"The moment they see you doing well they'll try something."

How did he know?

"Trust me, I know."

Somehow, she believed that. Furthermore, it seemed counterproductive to argue with him when he was offering to escort her to class. Not that she was aiming for anything, or was she? Whatever she was thinking, which admittedly she wasn't totally sure of, Mikami's objectives were purely noble.

…She hadn't just put the word "noble" and Mikami in the same though, had she?

Was he noble? Not really, he was rather forceful with a lot of his ideas, when he felt like pushing it. He probably would have done the same with anyone else who was being bullied.

She hadn't been able to think of that word, let alone say it. It had taken a lot of work on her part to begin to admit that she was being bullied. It didn't matter as to why, she would never be able to understand Manami and Yuika, even less so with Haruna and Rie.

At first she was ashamed of herself for letting it happen, wondering what she could have done differently to brush away their attention like some inconsequential act. She brought to mind all the points in the past months where things went wrong and where she should have done something, or just turned away. She wondered, constantly, to herself if she could have made things better while still staying true to herself.

And she decided no.

She would have ended up hating herself if she gave into them and turned a blind eye to what they were doing. That was when she got angry, like she hadn't been before. It was more than an embarrassed hot flash, more than throwing her racquet across the locker room. She was pissed that they made her feel like her life was done, and especially that they took tennis away from her. That was the worst.

Yuika was right, she wasn't going back to practice. No way in hell would she open herself up to that kind of humiliation, again. Inaba-senpai would be upset with her, she knew they were trying to build a team worthy enough to take on Todai(1), but she wasn't going to sacrifice herself like that.

When she realized that she became afraid. Afraid because since she was little her parents, her culture had taught her to do what was best for everyone. Pitch in and help and in the end everyone will benefit from it.

Except that things hadn't gone that way. She took the abuse and the name calling for the team, and she was still made out to look like a nuisance. They even scared her enough so that she stayed in her apartment, missing all the best August festivals. So forget them, she thought. She was going to do things for herself from now on.

She'd find another tennis club to join, one that was unaffiliated with the college. She never had any illusions of a professional career, it was just something she did because she loved it. She didn't have to play for the college team to feel that. They couldn't take that emotion away from her. That was the one scrap of pride she had to hold onto.

If they had taken her pride away, then Mikami had given her the opportunity to take it back. She wasn't going to squander it.

"Meet me at the park near your apartment," he said. "We'll walk from there."

She nodded and slung the satchel over her shoulder. Taking one last look at her apartment, dirty clothes and all, she took her keys in hand and walked out the door. "All right. See you there."

"Yes." He hung up.

Perhaps things were getting better.

* * *

She had to wonder where he lived. He said she was on the way so it couldn't have been that far. There was a little "gang" that rode the train with her every morning, same time, same car. After a while, she saw faces she recognized in the station as well. If he lived very near her, going to the same station as she did, she would have seen him at some point, she was sure of it.

But she hadn't and yet here he was, leaning against the railing that encircled the jungle gym and sand pit, with his backpack hanging on one shoulder and the hand on his free arm stuffed in the pocket of his grey slacks. Did this man ever wear something that wasn't considered business casual?

He pushed himself off the railing the moment he noticed her. She wiped her hands on the front of her t-shirt, getting rid of the sweat on her hands and smoothing out the creases, hoping he wouldn't notice she wasn't very fastidious about ironing.

"Good morning, Mishima-san," he said, calm as ever. Nothing fazed him.

"Good morning," she replied. "Aren't you hot in that?" she said, since she had noticed that he was wearing a long sleeve button down which was tucked into the slim waistband of his slacks. Slim, but not too slim.

Did she just think that?

Oh, she was still looking at his crotch.

Dammit.

"I meant, it's really humid outside," she tried to cover, waving a hand in front of her face.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. She could have sworn she saw a grin there.

"No," he said. "Shall we?"

"Uh, yeah."

The walk to the station was a little more than awkward but something less than uncomfortable. She didn't know what to call it. It wasn't as if she had nothing to say to him, it was just that she wasn't sure if she could voice her thoughts to him. She figured that anything outside the realm of her bullying situation would either be meaningless conversation which would invariably make her look and sound like an idiot, or delving far too much into his own history. Of course, he made no attempt to coax any small talk out of her. No, he didn't seem the type.

So they carried on, down the sidewalk and past the vendors at the street markets, passing children in their uniforms heading to school, past old women wheeling their metal carts laden with different groceries and items behind them. The heat was unbearable, but it didn't stop people coming out in droves.

"You're not that far from the University," he said out of the blue. Apparently the silence had gotten to him as well. "If you had a bike, you could save on transportation costs."

She nodded, and kept her gaze ahead as they stopped at an intersection. The light turned from red to green and the car noise escalated, along with her voice.

"I know, but sometimes I have so much to carry, it won't fit on a bike."

"Like what?"

"Like my tennis bags," she said, the words shrinking away from her as she fell silent again. He looked down at her and she allowed herself a quick glance up at him, and wished she hadn't. There was that same concerned look. "…And stuff like that."

The light turned green for them and the tone signaling they could cross the street(2) echoed through the crosswalk. Just one more block and they would be at the train station.

"Are you going back to practice?" he finally asked.

"No," she said and shook her head. "Not at the university at least."

There was silence from him. A speedy deliveryman on a scooter nearly ran over them but Mikami put his hand on her shoulder and held her back. She couldn't help but tense up, his grip was so strong.

"There are plenty of tennis clubs in the city you can join, I'm sure," he said.

They reached the other side of the street and approached the bowed awning covering the stairs leading down into the subway. She could hear the hollow sound of the tunnel winds and the high pitched screeching of metal on metal. She quickened her pace and bounded down the steps, with him close behind her.

"I suppose so," she said and fished her pass out of the satchel's front pocket.

They went through the subway gates and boarded the train in silence. As usual there was quite the crowd and they chose to stand instead of take up the few bench seats that were left. Mikami tried to get her to sit down-he even put his hand on her back and tried to push her towards the bench-but she refused. He meant well, she knew, but it would be strange to be talking at him while her head was tilted so far back. Then again, she didn't think his objective in walking her to class was to chat her up.

Looking around the train car, she recognized a few faces, but she didn't see Yuika or the others. Moemi lived close to Yuika, and saw her on the train more towards the beginning of the semester, but had yet to see her again. She had to admit that she always glanced around, waiting to see the girl's face, just in case she had to run again.

She blinked at the thought as she gazed out the window in front of her. If Mikami walked her to class every morning, walked her everywhere, then perhaps they would leave her alone.

Of course she couldn't keep Mikami around her like a bodyguard. That wasn't what he was trying to do and it wouldn't be right to use him like that.

Though she could still dream of it.

Taking a deep breath she gazed at his reflection in the window. His face was so blank at times she wondered if he was thinking anything at all. It was a mystery what went on in that head. What kind of self-assurance did he have to walk around like he did; say the things he said? It was a confidence she admired. She wanted that for herself.

The train stopped at Demachiyanagi Station and they followed the flow of people out of the car and through the gates. Before she knew what she was doing she reached up and took a handful of his shirt in her grasp and held on as they were jostled from side to side. She let go once they emerged from the underground and he didn't say a word about it.

It was a long ten minute walk to the campus as she didn't realize just how much she had been dreading this moment until they crossed Higashi Oji Street and took the first step on university pavement.

She slowed down and focused on quashing the nervousness that unsettled her stomach, willing it to go away. Everything looked imposing, towering over her. She glanced from side to side, trying to get a good look between the buildings and around the corners, knowing that there was someone waiting for her to pass by. Someone was going to jump out and attack her.

A shadow jumped in the narrow space between the buildings as her eyes passed over. She snapped them back, glaring intently at the alleyway. There were bushes, some blocks of machinery humming and pumping cool air into the buildings it was sandwiched between. There _was_ a shadow there, she _did_ see it. Didn't she?

"Mishima-san?"

Mikami had stopped a few feet in front of her. He glanced from her, to the buildings, and back to her with a frown on his face. He closed the gap between them and placed his hand on the small of her back.

"There's nothing there," he said, barely above a whisper.

She sucked in a breath of air and felt her stomach flutter as she exhaled. "I know," she said.

"It's almost nine," he said and gently pushed her forward.

"Yeah," she said and nodded, peeling her eyes away from the buildings. She put one foot in front of the other and continued toward her class.

It was 8:50 when they reached the lecture hall and that nervous fluttering in her stomach wouldn't go down. Mikami removed his hand from her back and she felt it missing there. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her apartment and crawl under the sheets.

"Is one of them in this class?" he said. Moemi nodded. "Let me walk you in," he continued and made to move her in the building.

She stood her ground there, feeling like a kindergartner on their first day of class. Stepping away from him, she adjusted the satchel strap on her shoulder.

"It's fine, Mikami-san, you've done so much already," she said, looking down at his feet. A smile crept onto her lips, thinking about how he kept tabs on her over the break, even now.

He adjusted his own bag and nodded. "If you're all right."

"Yes," she said and began to turn, but stopped to face him again. "I really do appreciate it, everything you've done. I've never, I mean, no one's ever…well…thank you."

He didn't hide the look of surprise on his face, even if it was nothing more than the widening of his eyes and the arch in his eyebrows. She could barely see it behind his glasses anyway.

Then he smiled, genuinely smiled at her, as if what she said was music to his ears.

She couldn't help but smile back, her own real, genuine smile. She hadn't smiled like that since, well, she couldn't remember. Perhaps it was during the last time she saw her mother, or even before that. It didn't matter. What she saw and felt more than made up for a lack of smiles over the past months, perhaps years.

"There's no price for honesty and trust," he said. Well, wasn't _that_ the truth…

"I had better get going," she said.

"Do you want me to come back after your class is done?" he said.

She huffed out a laugh and shook her head. "Don't you have meetings or something?" she said.

"I suppose."

She laughed again. "I'll be okay, Mikami-san." She had to be, there was nothing else if she wasn't.

He nodded again. "I'll be in the tutoring office if you need anything."

"Yes, I know."

"And you have my number."

"Yes, yes."

"See you later, Mishima-san," he said and turned to walk off towards the south block of campus.

She watched his retreating back with that same smile plastered on her face. The fluttering in her stomach was still making her nervous, but of a different kind. Certainly different, she thought.

Even walking into the building, walking up to the lecture hall was something she felt all right with. She knew at least one of those girls would be in her class. This was a mandatory course for freshman, and one of two lecture sections. The chances were fifty-fifty.

Her senses honed in on the spot like the laugh was a honing beacon. The same laugh that echoed in her thoughts nightly. There was Yuika and Rie sitting together on the far side of the room, the third row. Well, at least it wasn't the more physical and bold Haruna. She figured Yuika and Rie followed more than thought for themselves. They wouldn't make a move on her without going to Manami first.

It was only seconds until they noticed her as well. She took a deep breath and forced her gaze elsewhere, up and up the stairs to a seat by the opposite wall from them. She wasn't going to put her back to them. Like any good strategist, she wanted the high ground.

Students piled in as the hour chime struck nine. They were followed by the professor on their heels. He clapped his hands several times to get their attention. The chatter in the room died down as everyone focused on the front.

The professor welcomed them to the class with a sigh and a cough, barely looking at them as he ruffled through his papers and flipped the overhead projector on. He shuffled to the side of the room and shut off half the lights. After some grumbling into his bag he pulled out a transparency and slapped it down on the projector's glass top.

"Ah, well, get a pen a paper out. I thought to start we'd have a pop quiz," he said, as if it wasn't the best idea he'd had in a long while.

Everyone in the room groaned and complained as much as they dared. The professor held up his hands and waved them nonchalantly at the students, telling everyone to hush and get to work.

Moemi reached down into her satchel, keeping her head low and her face hidden the best she could to hide the smirk on her face.

* * *

"_The moment they see you doing well they'll try something."_

Those words echoed in her mind throughout the weeks.

In fact, she was still being wary of her surroundings. She did have a few classes with Yuika; Manami was in English with her, along with Rie and Haruna. Moemi stayed as far away from them as she could, choosing the higher seat in lecture halls or desks closer to the back of the classroom; she always kept her front to them, never her back.

It wasn't as if she was skipping from class to class with a million yen smile on her face. She hadn't beamed at anyone except Mikami, and her classes were hard enough and kept somewhat of a scowl on her face. Or that's at least what her chemistry lab partners said.

She didn't think she presented the image of someone who was doing well. She wasn't at all, and she hated herself for hoping they saw that.

She had a lot more free time now that she wasn't going to tennis any longer. The first day back she sat in the library, in the tutoring section with Mikami, and waited for practice to start. Once she was sure no one would be in the locker rooms she went and emptied her locker, only leaving the charred and dirtied scraps that were once her uniform.

She hadn't seen Inaba-senpai, or any of the other players, and didn't make the effort to tell them she wasn't coming back. They could figure it out on their own well enough.

There was no sign of Watanabe either, despite the countless messages he left on her phone and the sheer amount of text messages he sent her. He begged for forgiveness, to meet up, and she ignored them all.

Though she didn't think ignoring him was going to make the problem go away.

She'd seen him in action before. He used blunt persuasion to get what he wanted and when that didn't work, he took it by force. She had refused him so many times already. The feeling of his arms locked around her in an iron grip was still with her. It was what she felt every time she heard a laugh or saw someone who looked like him.

He was texting her now as she walked towards the cafeteria to grab some lunch.

_I'm really, really, REALLY sorry, Moemi,_ it said. She frowned at the screen, hating that he used her given name so freely(3). _Please, can we meet? I'll make it up to you, I promise._

She deleted it, like all the others.

There was no reason to engage him, even if she would be telling him to leave her alone. She'd said it so many times already and he still hadn't listened. His lack of concern for anything but his own desires worried her, frightened her. If he ever had the idea or chance to use more force than he already had, she didn't think she would be able to repel him again.

It was always a wonder why people like Watanabe and Manami thought they could do whatever they liked. What gave them the right to treat people like they did? Did they think their lives were worth more than anyone else's?

Moemi knew the fragility of life and how easy it could be taken away. Her father, who had never hurt a person in his life was taken from her when he tried to do nothing more than protect her. She didn't understand why it was always those who did good were always the ones who suffered.

Then this KIRA showed up and started decided who was right.

Moemi wasn't' sure what she felt about this mysterious person known as KIRA. He, or she, or it, had been around since her last year of high school and was doing a good job of scaring everyone into being good.

She had to admit, there were a few times she wished KIRA would do something about bullies.

As things were, KIRA only went after criminals. So she begged the question, who exactly was a criminal? Did being a criminal mean you did something wrong? If that was the case, then Manami and Watanabe should have been targeted by KIRA several times over. Those boys who pinned her down in her room, wasn't that considered a criminal deed?

When she asked Mikami if "badness" was something inherent, something that was in a person since birth, she hadn't really understood what she was saying. She hadn't been in the right mindset, just coming off a bout from Manami and a horrible argument with Yuika. If she went along with her meaning then it meant she agreed with the idea that there were people who were bad from the start, and those people didn't deserve life.

To be deserving of life…

Wasn't that something that everyone had a chance at? It was up to each person to exercise that chance, that right. She had to tell herself again, living life wasn't a privilege, it was a right.

A right…

She wasn't going to let anyone take away that right away from her.

The cafeteria was less crowded as the lunch hour dwindled to a close. There wasn't much left for her to choose from so she went for the typical curry rice set. She paid for her ticket and went through the line relatively quickly. There was an empty table by the window she chose, sat, and hunkered down, looking away from the rest of the room and through the window. Several student were making their way across campus, away from the cafeteria.

It was nearly one o' clock now, only a few more hours until practice started. She sighed to herself and forced her eyes away from the window. Digging into the curry she sighed again. She was still thinking about tennis. Of course there was no way she was going to forget. Just…thinking about it brought bad memories, bad emotions, and reactions she had to the sound of a ball being whacked against a racquet, or the sound of a screeching wheel.

It would take some time before she could get back into it, she knew that. She hadn't even begun to look around town for different tennis clubs to sign up for. Though she did know one thing, the university tennis club took up way too much time for any person to participate in outside clubs. There was no chance she would run into Manami or Watanabe outside the university. That thought comforted her somewhat.

She ate without looking around, focusing on finishing and getting back to studying. She'd been spending all her down time in the library with Mikami. They sat at a table near the tutoring section, mostly doing nothing more than sitting next to each other. He would read a book while she scribbled away on her homework, sometimes asking him for help if she needed it, but they never really talked much. She supposed there was nothing to say and she was too wary of asking anything personal.

He never gave any inclination that her presence was unwelcome. If he had a tutoring appointment he would excuse himself, but came right back afterwards and stayed there until she had class or had to go home, then which he would always offer to see her to her apartment. Sometimes she refused, sometimes she didn't.

Well, okay, a lot of the time she didn't.

It was obvious to her he was keeping a watch on her, she knew from the first time he walked her to class. In turn, she was sure he knew what her intentions were. She was using him. Manami didn't like Mikami at all, but the girl was also wary of him, perhaps afraid. If Moemi always had Mikami at her side, then nothing would happen to her.

It was shameful, she knew, but it was the truth. Again, Mikami made no mention of it. Rather, he accepted it. That man had to have the patience and stamina of the Buddha.

The sound of a throat being cleared broke her out of her thoughts and she turned to see Watanabe standing at the edge of the table.

She felt her heart drop.

"Finally," he said as he sat opposite to her.

Dropping the spoon into the bowl of curry she made to move but he latched onto her wrist, causing her to gasp and pull away in a gut reaction. He immediately let go and halfway stood, holding his hands in front of him in a peace offering.

"Woah, woah, sorry," he said.

Moemi held her hand close to her chest and scooted as far back into her chair as she could. She didn't want to hear anything he had to say. She didn't even want to look at him.

"I just want to say sorry." He rubbed his hand across his scalp. The buzz cut he sported during the summer was growing into a fluffy patch of fuzz. He was still tan as the last time she saw him, but the appeal she felt then was no longer there.

"I'm sorry, Moemi."

She flinched.

"I'm really sorry. I just…I was so angry, over Fuji and Ishikawa, I just wanted you to hear me out."

Saying nothing, she stared down at her tray, into the bowl of curry.

"I didn't mean to scare you like that."

He meant to be gentler? Didn't change the fact of what he ended up doing.

"Actually, you kinda freaked me out."

Was he serious?

"I wasn't expecting you to react like that."

"How did you think I would react?"

"What?"

She paused. It came out before she had the chance to think about what she was saying. She wanted to get up and run, fast. Anything to get away, but she stayed there, knowing that she wasn't going to move.

She didn't want to run anymore.

"Did you think I would fall into your arms and beg you to take me?" she said. She couldn't see the look on his face, she didn't want to look at him.

"I…" he began, "I…"

"Just like you're not interested in Yuika, I'm not interested in you," she said.

Finally. It was so easy, yet difficult to say. Despite however much she recoiled from him, it was hard for her to knowingly inflict pain on someone. Still, it should have been the first thing she said to him, a long time ago. She should have made it clearer, and not sound like she was joking around. Perhaps then he wouldn't have tried to take it so far and Yuika wouldn't have turned against her.

"Moemi…" he said.

"And would you stop using my given name?" she blurted out, looking up at him. The look in his eyes told her it had come out harsher than she wanted, but she had to be firm, she had to be. "We're not that familiar," she looked to the side, "And like I said, I'm not interested."

She glanced out the corner of her eyes to see his figure slump and his head hang into his chest. He looked so pathetic to be sitting there and moping like all his dreams had been crushed. Well, in a way they had. Whatever plans he had for them together, she destroyed it. It was so rare that you met someone who truly cared for you in the same way you cared for them. She sighed.

Underneath the table she clenched her hands into fists.

She had to be firm or else he wouldn't get it. This was why people were always hurt by others, because of indecisiveness and fear of being perceived as impolite.

He brought his hands up and reached across the table towards her. It was hardly meant to be invasive, she knew that, but the reaction to instantly recoil from him was ingrained in her now. There was nothing to counter it, she didn't want to.

"This weekend, there's the Takase River Boat Festival(4). Have you been?" he said.

Moemi frowned across the table, finally looking him in the eye, only to see his gaze diverted away from her. Was he bashful? Afraid she would refuse? For the love of all things holy, did he not listen to anything she said?

"Watanabe," she said, with more force behind her voice. "I said I'm not interested. Didn't you hear me?"

"Yeah, but, I just," he sighed and slumped his shoulders again before meeting her eyes. "I love you."

Everything stopped. Nothing else was taken in from her surroundings. The drone of the cafeteria noise, the feeling of sweat on her palms, it deceased to matter. All she focused on was those words. She never thought she would hear them from anyone besides her family. She didn't want to hear it from anyone else, least of all this man.

He held her gaze, out of shock if nothing else. Love…he loved her. That's what he said at least. She couldn't believe it, no way he did. There was no plausible way.

"All I do is think of you. It may be lame to say that, but well…it's true," he said.

He thought about her? Considered her, wondered what she was doing at any time of the day?

"Yeah, I mean, don't ask me why. I don't know, maybe its how you never give up, or something…"

There was no way to get out of this unscathed now.

"And I know what I did in the park was bad, but I just want to be close to you…"

The words were tumbling out of his moth so fast she barely kept up with it. Still staring at him, she tried to process what he was saying, and none of it made much sense to her. At every turn she spurned him, pushed him away, screamed at him that day at the park. She had never given him any indication that she wanted his affection. She supposed she didn't give him enough reasons as to why she _didn't_ want him, but still…

He was truly the most stubbornly stupid man she'd ever met. He followed his feelings to the worst results, and he thought it was an admirable trait.

"I'm sorry, Watanabe-san," she began.

He might as well have growled at her when he sighed. "Would you just listen to me?" he said.

That stopped her. The need to run surged through her again as she finally looked away from him and began searching out all the exits. With that tone of voice, she couldn't trust any more he had to say.

"Please come to the festival with me. I think it would be good, you can see me in a different light and-"

"I'm not going to the festival with you," she said, turning back to him.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"What, you're going to stay in your apartment all the time, doing nothing? Or, you're already going with someone else?"

"It's none of your business." She glanced down at the tray in front of her and nearly sighed when he piped up again.

"You are?"

"I didn't say that," she immediately replied. Watanabe plowed right on.

"It's that tutor guy, isn't it? Mikami."

"What?" Where did he pull that from? His mind was acting up again, she knew it. It was just like the park, where he took it too far. He sat there across from her in the cafeteria, tense just like he was that day, his voice was getting louder, and his face was taking on a hard look to it. All of this was from just thinking about Mikami.

"Are you going to the festival with him?" he said. Yes, a very hard tone.

"With Mikami-san?"

"'Mikami-san'" he said, quoting her and scoffing.

"What's wrong with that?" she said. Rather, she blurted out. She didn't like the way he said _Mikami_, as if it were some dirty word or a curse. She'd had enough of this.

She stood up, the metal feet of the chair scraping against the floor loudly as she pushed it back. With no more than a sigh in Watanabe's direction, she grabbed her tray and hauled it off towards the kitchen. She scraped out the remaining curry and deposited the dishes and tray in the correct receptacles. Of course Watanabe was behind her the whole way.

"What the hell is it about him anyway?" he said. "What makes him so great?"

She sighed again and ignored him as she strode out of the cafeteria. Once outside she made a beeline for the library. As long as she was in there, in the tutoring section, she would be all right. They would all leave her alone then.

"Moemi-"

"I said not to call me that!" she yelled, turning on him. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed back as hard as she could. He stumbled back a few steps. The look of shock on his face was enough to rein her in. Had she just…

She pulled back, continued back, back, until she was far enough away to where she couldn't touch him, to where he couldn't touch her.

She just attacked him. She physically attacked him.

Spinning back around she didn't wait to hear him call after her and she didn't look back to see if he was following. She continued on until she was walking through the library doors and down the aisles of tables until she found the one she wanted.

He was sitting there by himself, flipping through a book and taking an occasional note. He looked up at her approach and was frowning within the time it took her to collapse in a chair across from him. His eyes quickly scanned her, checking for signs of bullying, she guessed, before focusing on her face. She probably looked a right idiot rushing into the library all flustered like that.

"What's wrong?" Miakmi said.

She shook her head. "Nothing." She sucked in a few breaths before sighing to herself.

He looked her over again, glanced at her satchel she placed next to her on the table. "Mishima-san…"

"I'm fine," she said, making the extra effort to smile. "Really, I'm fine."

Judging the look in his eyes, he didn't believe it. She didn't expect him to, but it wasn't something she wanted to go over just that moment. She still had to figure out for herself what just happened. She was so focused on getting herself out of the situation she didn't take the time to process it.

Watanabe cornered her in the cafeteria. He apologized with empty words. He asked her to a festival. He told her he loved her.

He loved her.

That wasn't possible. There was no way he could love her when she was so hostile towards him all the time.

Hostile.

She hit him.

Well, no, she didn't hit him. She merely pushed him, but it was enough to push him off balance. She yelled at him while doing it and it wasn't any stifled sort of cry, no. She bellowed at him. That wasn't what she had wanted to do. She only wanted him to leave her alone. She hadn't wanted to be physical, that wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want to get her point across by forcing the issue.

That blockhead Watanabe.

He didn't love her, there was no way.

"Have you heard of the Takase River Boat Festival?" she said.

Mikami looked up from his book and set his pen down. He narrowed his eyes for a moment before nodding. "Yes, the city sets boat rides up and down the river while maiko(5) perform a tea ceremony. They have it every year."

"Oh." She nodded.

"Did you want to go?" he asked.

"Oh no!" she said immediately. "Not really." There was no way she was going if there was a chance of running into Watanabe there. Now that she realized how difficult it was to avoid him on campus, she didn't want to increase those odds out in the city. She sighed again and pulled her algebra notes from her satchel. Nothing like studying to get your mind off things…what a depressing thought.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Mikami asked.

She looked up at him, seeing the concern in his face. It was barely there, but she knew better than to question by how much he emoted. He had laid his book on the table, no longer paying any attention to it. His focus was on her.

Nodding as she opened her notebook, she smiled again. It felt unnatural, but she had to force one out, just to keep his questions at bay. She knew he would ask her again sometime soon, but she didn't want to go through it all then and there.

"Yeah, fine," she said.

Right…

* * *

Glossary

1. Todai: short for Tokyo University. Written in romanji it's _Tokyo Daigaku_. So by taking the _To_ and _Dai_ and putting them together, you get _Todai_! It's recognized as the #1 university in Japan with the best of everything. Being a graduate of Todai will get a student amazing job/career opportunities.

2. Traffic light tone: A lot of traffic lights in Japan have a musical tone that signals the light changes for blind pedestrians. In some cities it's the sound of a bird chirping, other places have bits from classic Japanese folk songs.

3. Using a given name freely: It's very uncommon in Japan to call someone by their given name (first name) unless you're good friends with them. It implies that you've been friends long enough to have a strong bond with that someone. If there is no bond it's considered very rude and arrogant to do so. That's why in _dorama_ or anime/manga when a character first calls another by their given name, they seem so upset or happy, depending on the situation.

4. Takase River Boat Festival: Just as Mikami says, it's a September festival in Kyoto where they have Edo period (1603-1868) riverboat rides and the usual Japanese festival vendors and games. Apprentice geisha from the Pontocho district perform a tea ceremony.

5. Maiko: apprentice geisha. The plural form of this word is just "maiko".

* * *

Yay for chapter 8! Thanks for reading, tell me what you think! I will be working on chapter 9 in the coming weeks so please look forward to that!

As a side note, I have posted a poll in my profile and was hoping everyone would take a look at it. It's "research" for a different fic I'm currently writing. If anyone could take just a minute to fill out the poll it would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note, nor anything related to it in anyway. I am not receiving any profit from writing this.

Once again, thank you to all those who read and reviewed the last chapter. This one is very late in coming and I am sorry. In late June, a person in my immediate family passed away and it threw me into a funk I'm just now coming out of. He was very young and it's difficult to come to terms with his passing. Coupled with grad school starting again and working multiple jobs, it's been a difficult time. I deeply appreciate everyone who reads/reviews this story. It really lifts my spirits when I get a notification in my email. Thanks for being so patient. And now, on to the next chapter.

**Abrasions** Chapter 9

by lmh

* * *

It was certainly not the kind of date she would have chosen for herself.

Could this even be called a date? The fluttering in her stomach told her that she was nervous, yet it was no different than the walk to campus they made every day together. They walked in their usual formation, with Mikami on the outside, closest to the street, his hand occasionally touching her back to guide the way. Then again, her stomach always fluttered whenever he did that too.

This wasn't a normal, everyday walk. This was the Takase River Boat Festival and she was sauntering past various vendors with Mikami at her side, watching for the maiko as they walked by. Other than the time he intervened at the department store, she had never seen him in a context not related to school. This just felt…different.

Even more strange, he was doing most the talking, pointing out the areas of Kyoto she hadn't seen before and the history behind them, talking about memories of the festival in his past.

His past…

He didn't give up too much. Mostly he told her whatever memory he had associated with a certain thing. A storefront he passed when he was in junior high or a tree he saw birds nesting in when he was ten. His expression changed, his mellow chatter slowed down as they passed an apartment complex. He lifted up his hand and pointed with a long, slender finger to the privacy wall surrounding the building. That spot, he spoke with great care, was where a group of his drunk, junior high classmates ran a stolen car off the road and killed his mother.

The shock of hearing it stopped her in her tracks. A slight nudge from him moved her along. She only pulled her gaze away from the spot when they were too far along to look over her shoulder.

There was nothing she could say. Words of sympathy always ended up sounding awkward and insincere, no matter the intention.

"What about your father? It must have been hard for you two," she finally said, figuring if she walked the line of casual and understanding, anything she said wouldn't sound forced.

"I never knew my father," was the simple reply; and her whole strategy fell apart.

"Oh, sorry," she said and looked down at her feet as they walked. The so called casual understanding had turn to guilt. Silence fell between them for a moment.

He pulled her towards him as a biker whizzed past. She felt the swooping in her stomach.

"It's alright," he said and let her go. There was no anger of shame in his voice. He sounded indifferent of it. So she took a chance.

"Do you wonder what he was like?" she asked, and prayed he wouldn't find her prodding offensive.

"My mother never spoke of him."

"Not once?" Moemi said, looking up at him. He kept his gaze focused ahead of them.

"Only once, to comment that I was an exact copy of him, face and voice. I was in junior high. My voice dropped a couple octaves and I grew a few centimeters. I suppose I reminded her of him in that moment."

Moemi listened to the pitch and cadence of his voice, looked at his stature and features, and tried to imagine what type of man gave half himself for Mikami Teru. She could only see Mikami Teru in her mind.

"Wow," she said. "And that was it, nothing else?" He shook his head. Moemi took in a deep breath and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You mean, your mother never spoke of him again?"

"That's correct," he said.

"But, didn't you wonder about it? Didn't you want to ask questions?"

"I did ask questions, when I was very young, and she didn't answer them. He didn't exist for us."

She paused. "…Didn't exist?"

"He was never considered, never mentioned, besides that one time. No pictures, no videos. If he contributed to my upbringing I never heard about it." He paused to adjust his glasses. "In the end, we didn't talk about him, so he didn't exist. It's useless to wonder after a person who doesn't exist for you."

"Like, _'if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it..._?_'_" she said.

"Exactly."

Moemi sighed to herself. She looked down at the ground and shook her head, letting out a little hum.

"That's so sad," she said.

There was silence for a few steps and she sensed Mikami shift beside her.

"Sad?" he said.

She nodded. "Yeah, I mean, he's a pretty important person. He created you, with your mother. You have half of him in you. To…deny his existence, it's just sad."

He looked down at the ground and barely smirked. "I used to think it was Immaculate Conception, that I was the son of God, or something."

Moemi frowned and looked up at him, wondering where that came from.

The smirk vanished as soon as he said it, as if it was never there. He seemed amused by the thought of his younger self, wondering after his father and coming to that conclusion. He even seemed shamed by it, and then…not. It was a strange thing to find amusing. She didn't think it was funny…she didn't know what to think about it.

"…The son of…God?" she said. She was rewarded with another smirk.

"The mind of an inquisitive boy," he said.

It sounded like there was a lot more than an overactive imagination going on there.

"You're rather occupied with this idea," he said.

"You mean about denying your father?"

He nodded, she shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, yeah. Like I said, you have half of him in you. It seems strange to not wonder who he was, to not seek him out."

"'Strange', you say?"

She slowed her step and clutched her hands to the front of her shirt. Worry seized her up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…well, perhaps 'strange' isn't the word for it," she said.

"Perhaps there are no words to describe it," he said quietly, as if to himself. She nodded anyway.

It _was_ strange, though. Even if he never met his father, never knew what he looked like, there had to be some seed of wonder buried deep inside. To never imagine what the people who created you were like was so neglectful of one's past.

Unless he really believed he was the son of God, which was just plain arrogant.

"Besides, if I wanted to know anything more, my mother died before I could ask her," he said.

There was silence again. He didn't push the conversation forward and Moemi figured she had asked enough questions for the time being.

She supposed he didn't want to talk about it, surely it was difficult to mention, let alone remember, but he didn't seem very upset by any of it. It had been a long time ago, perhaps he had come to terms with everything, but something still wasn't right. The way he spoke of it, with a distant detachment from it all, was as if he didn't want to remember it. No, it was as if he didn't care at all.

She shook her head, denying the thoughts. This was all speculation. Yes, there were some deeply unusual things about Mikami, some things she couldn't exactly figure out, but they were all ideas she conjured up herself. She didn't have a way to know if there was something to her inklings and she would definitely not ask him about it.

Besides, he had a kind side. Despite his dark and brooding demeanor, his unwillingness to joke around like everyone else did, Mikami was far more kind and caring than many. He saw other people, their wishes, desires, their hearts, and did what he could to protect them. There was a stalwart sense of justice in him. He knew what was right and didn't stray from whatever path he set for himself. It was daunting at times to just stand next to him. Moemi paled in comparison. She would never fully comprehend the places he had come out of.

They came to the end of the vendors set up along the riverside walkway park. There were still hundreds of people milling about as the maiko had just performed the tea ceremony. The sun in the sky was being blocked out by approaching clouds and the night that was close. Mikami ushered them across a bridge and they walked back upstream the way they came.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I guess I'm kind of biased. I mean, I had both my parents growing up. I still have my mother, at least."

"Just your mother?" he said.

"Well, my grandparents too, on my mother's side, I mean."

She heard a quiet hum come from him as he looked ahead. People and the sounds of the festival surrounded them as they walked right into the thick of it. The touch of his hand on her elbow to guide her sent the swooping sensation through her again. She tensed up, but let him lead.

"You don't talk about your family much," he said, "I've never heard you mention them."

Then the nervous swooping in her stomach changed to a feeling much different. There was dread there, fear that she couldn't trust him with what was in _her_ past. The hold he had on her elbow tightened as he pulled her away from a group of people passing. She trusted him enough to do this. He trusted her enough to speak longer than she had ever heard him do so, and with such a subject.

"No, not really," she said.

"Did something happen?" he said and turned his head to look at her.

She glanced his way and did the best to show a convincing smile, but it wasn't returned.

"It's not something I like thinking about," she said.

"I see."

That was it. No _'tell me more'_ or _'c'mon just say it'_, letting it go for the future, or for never. There was no obligation and nothing was forced. Trust was the only thing she could put stock in. She knew that. It was the one thing she wanted to give him.

"There were loan sharks(1)," she began. Taking time for a deep breath she opened the passageways in her mind and tried to remember what was put away there. She hardened her heart and resolved to keep things in a matter-of-fact way. No tears anymore.

"Loan sharks," Mikami repeated. Moemi nodded.

"My dad was laid off when I was in elementary school, but when I got into an elite junior high, he took out some loans(2)."

She paused and turned her head away to watch a boat gently float by on the river. The oarsman standing at the back of the boat took a moment to nod in their direction before pushing on the wood pole in his hand to propel the boat further. The water parted as the boast glided through the water. Moemi squinted her eyes as she caught a glint of the bright sun on the river's surface.

"He shouldn't have done it," she continued, "My mother wasn't working either, and the loan was too much."

"So the loan sharks started to hound him," Mikami said. Moemi nodded.

"I didn't know about it at the time, my father never told us anything unless he thought we needed to know…which was never. I mean, I was doing well in school, so I'm sure he thought it was all worth it. But…"

She paused again, thinking back to those times, remembering how angry the increasingly frequent phone calls agitated her father and strained their family relationships. She remembered answering the door before he had a chance to look through the peephole. The two men, both in nice suits and ties, took off their sunglasses, smiled down at her and asked if her parents were home. She only got out a 'yes' before her father came bounding towards her and through the doorway before closing the door in her face.

She remembered standing on her toes to peer through the peephole and watched as her father pleaded with the men about money. He only had some, he'd have the rest of the payment maybe next week, probably next month. The men were unimpressed. She heard them complain, in plain words and harsh terms, how annoyed they were getting. Her father was already a few payments behind. They would have never loaned him money if they knew he was going to be so troublesome.

When he came back inside, there was a look on his face she'd never seen before. She didn't know what to make of it then, only that his face frightened her. Now, she could see how angry he was, with himself, perhaps. She now recognized the fear in his face and wished she could have been thoughtful enough to recognize it then.

"Those same two men came at least a few times a week and every time they stopped by, they addressed me by name, calling me 'Moemi-chan'. I hated it."

She paused, waiting for Mikami to say something. Exactly what she wanted him to say, she didn't know. Anything to stop this hemorrhaging of words and memories. It was all she could do to remember exactly what happened. So much of it was erased or put far away in the back of her mind by lengthy and intense therapy sessions.

One of the loan sharks' faces became clear in her mind. She saw the fine-trimmed beard he had and his strong, square set jaw. He was the one who recognized her first.

"There was one of them with a beard," she said, "He knew me."

"Knew you?" Mikami said.

She nodded. "I opened and peaked through the door once. He caught my eye, turned to his friend and said, 'doesn't she go to school with the boss' kid'."

"The boss? Like a yakuza(3) boss?"

"Yeah. My junior high was super elite. Most of the students there were children of business men, fashion designers, politicians, a lot of rich people. This one boy, apparently his father was a yakuza boss. He must have bribed the school into accepting his children. This boy, he was really friendly. He was…mean to the people he didn't like, but for the most part, he helped everyone out."

"He was interested in you?" said Mikami.

Her heart began to beat harder and she heard the rushing blood in her ears. The man with the beard at the door…she knew his face as well.

"The bearded loan shark, he drove my classmate to school every day." She remembered how they offered to drive her home a couple times. She remembered the angry lecture her father gave her when he saw her get out of the car with that man. She even remembered when the bearded man pointed her out and said something in the ear of his employer's son.

She had to stop. The pumping in her ears spread and she felt her face pulsing. There wasn't enough air around her to suck in. She brought her hands up and cupped her head, moved a hand down and clenched her shirt-front.

There was her classmate's voice in her head, calling her 'Moemi-chan' and favoring her above everyone else. All his friends were nice to her, treated her like she was the queen bee. Everyone took care of her.

Until he came over, with his brother.

What were their names?

She couldn't even remember his name.

The pulsing moved further inside and formed into an intense headache, a thick pounding which numbed everything else. There was a bubbling in her stomach and she bent over, feeling faint.

"Mishima-san? Mishima-san, are you all right?"

A pair of hands clamped down on her shoulders and began to pull her off somewhere. She instantly tensed up and began to struggle. The hands gripped her harder and she heard a familiar voice in her hear.

"Mishima-san, it's me, Mikami."

She couldn't breathe. She remembered how they held her down.

"Mishima-san. Moemi…san, can you hear me?"

A cool hand touched her cheek and eased her head upwards. She saw a pair of brown eyes, shielded by glasses, looking down at her. She knew these eyes.

"It's me, Mikami. Mikami Teru."

"Mikami-san?"

He nodded, as he did her vision swirled and a vertigo overtook her. She frowned and tried to focus on his eyes. The bubbling in her stomach surged forward.

"I'm going to be sick," she said, straining to get the words out.

She hadn't finished saying it when he turned her over and her stomach spew a milky white liquid out her mouth. Mikami held her hair back as she retched again and again. She didn't count the number of times her stomach heaved but as soon as she was done, and she could see straight again, the images and memories had left her and she was just crouched against an alley wall. She looked up and saw a person sticking his head out a window, only to disappear once their eyes met. He must have thought she was a drunk.

The pressure of Mikami's hands on her shoulders let up and she wobbled a bit until she found her balance again. He offered a handkerchief and she took it without question, without saying anything. Wiping her mouth off, she was careful not to turn towards him, not to glance at him. She didn't hand the handkerchief back. Instead she stuffed it in her pocket

"I'm sorry," she said. It was all she could think to say. She nearly vomited all over him and probably caused a scene. Memories, all that from a handful of bad memories.

"Not at all," he said. "Seems as if you're suffering PTSD."

"PTSD?"

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"I know what PTSD is," she said, nearly interrupting him, "but I shouldn't be, it happened a long time ago."

"You haven't gotten over it," he said finitely.

Moemi felt heat rise in her cheeks. She took a few unsure steps away from him and out of the alley. People passed back and forth in front of her, completely unaware of what just happened. They went on with their lives oblivious to what was going on inside her.

"Mishima-san?"

"I'm over it. Of course I am. I don't even remember it," she said.

She felt his hand on her elbow, steadying her step and she stumbled into the crowd. The people around them were so unaware of anything outside their own little spheres. They were so free from the troubles of others. It was increasingly becoming the one thing she most desired, to just be out of her own skin and living as someone else. These problems in her life were like deep wounds that wouldn't heal. The pain may have gone away for a time, but just one jolt could bring it all up again.

Mikami pulled her to the side and sat them both down on a stone bench. She wouldn't look at him. This was the last time she ever wanted to be like this in front of him.

"I'm…sorry." She said. "Every time you see me I start acting like a total idiot."

She massaged her fingers together and wound them around for a lack of anything better to do. Looking down at her feet she tried to laugh and tried to smile and she knew he wasn't going to buy it.

There was silence from him as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and deeply sighed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shift and lean towards her.

"Do you know why I decided to go to your tennis match?" he said.

She couldn't resist the temptation and looked up at him. However, he was staring into the crowd, at the river, and moving his eyes with the passing boats.

"I wasn't going to go, originally," he said, "But when you showed up at the tutoring office with those bandages on your knees I knew something wasn't right."

She thought back to that time and remembered him having no interest in it. She could even say he had a sort of contempt for school clubs. Yet he still went. Then all she could think about was the humiliating experience she went through at the hands of her so called friends.

"I've always…" he began but paused. Looking down at his hands he rubbed the palms together and sighed. "When I saw what those girls did to you at the match there was no doubt in my mind what was going on. I've seen it hundreds of times before, experienced it."

His talk with her at her apartment during the summer came back to her. _I know what it's like to have no one value your existence_, he said. She had barely thought about it before, not daring to ask him anything about that statement. She guessed he was probably bullied at some point in his life, wondered if that was the reason for his stand-offish behavior, but she never had the courage to ask the details.

"I hate bullies," he said, still looking down at his hands.

She gazed across the small gap between them and took his appearance in, really looked at him. His eyes weren't focused on anything, but he wouldn't return her glances. She parted her mouth in astonishment when a faint trace of red began to fill his cheeks.

"I could never stand by and watch it happen to anyone." he said. "As long as I can remember, I've always stepped in and fended off the bullies, even when I became a target."

Moemi sat, frozen to the spot. She never heard Mikami speak so many words at one time, and they were such personal words at that. She could just imagine a younger version of him, standing in front of a cowering form on the classroom floor. She was sure the scene in her head was far more romantic and idealized than anything that really went on. He had to have experienced terrible things. Just the look on his face as he mentioned becoming a target was so dark she was sure it suggested acts she could never in her entire life imagine.

"But I never backed down because I knew the people I was protecting appreciated it. That was enough to keep me going, all the way to law school."

And he would soon be a prosecutor for the prefectural government. Every day he would deal with this stuff. She imagined all the kinds of cases he would have to face in court. Murder, rape, theft, domestic violence, his experiences were the true driving force behind his actions.

"Bullying is a kind of evil that plagues the human race. It's everywhere, in many forms. The mentality behind it is the cause of many a genocide and yet no one tried to correct it. I've always done what I can to stop it wherever I see it happening, but eventually I saw that people everywhere have the same, petty and small minds that perpetuate it."

She looked down at his hands which were clasped together and hanging between his knees. She never really looked before. There were scars, some slicing from the knuckle to the wrist and others were small nicks. A circular discoloring on the back of his left hand caught her attention. The skin in the tiny circle was crumpled and looked like curdled cheese. One scar on his right hand started at the junction between the thumb and the forefinger and continued up into the sleeve of his shirt.

Moemi wondered where a person would get those kinds of scars. Perhaps from hard labor, or fighting.

She imagined Mikami surrounded by a group of school boys, fending them off with his bare hands while they attacked him with knives. She shut her eyes for a moment and told herself to calm it down, to stop fantasizing and making up stories in her head about him when she had no idea as to what went on in his life.

"Mishima-san," he said. She opened her eyes to see him starting straight at her. "I want you to know that there are good people in this world, very few, but they do exist. That's why it's all the more important to protect them and eliminate the evil that threatens to destroy them."

She nodded and let her gaze drift off, thinking about all the people he defended, herself included. Yes, she was appreciative.

"I just meant to say that you should never feel ashamed or embarrassed to ask for help. Never be afraid to come to me with your problems. I'll eradicate them all."

Her breath caught as she looked into his eyes. Just what did he mean by that? She couldn't deny that there was an element of the odd in those words and in his voice when he said them. 'Eradicate' had such finality to it. The word unnerved her.

It also meant that he would protect her. The question was what he found in her. She was quiet, judgmental, and wrote people off too soon, or at least that's what she thought of herself when she was alone. The bad qualities in her personality so overwhelmed the good she was ashamed to be sitting next to someone like Mikami. There was no way he could have missed this, but there was no way she would let him know about it.

His gaze became too much for her. There was heat rising in her cheeks and the swooping in her stomach was back. All she could force herself to do was nod.

"I-I know," she stammered. She ran over countless things she could say but only came up with "Thank you."

"I know I sound pretentious and self-serving," he began.

"No," Moemi said, interrupting him. "Not at all." The corners of his mouth barely turned up in a smile.

"I just don't want anyone going through what I did."

She glanced at his hands again and thought about the scars and how many people stood behind him as he made himself a barrier to their pain. No one even asked him to do it and he still went out of the way to become a shield. She wanted to say more than 'thank you', but there were no words to convey the relief she felt when he let her cry on his shoulder outside her apartment. She couldn't explain to him her astonishment when he made the effort to purchase her groceries and show up at her door with them. When he stood up to Manami, told her off, Moemi felt a protective arm come around her. She realized in that moment that someone cared, and it saved her. There were no words for this.

She wanted to do more for him. There had to be something she could do or say so he would know all this. He was sitting so close and yet she couldn't think of anything to tell him.

"I," she began. Nothing else came out. All she could do was look at his hands, the scars.

She reached out for them. She wedged her hand between his two and with boldness she didn't know she had, clasped her fingers around his, intertwining some of them.

He stiffened next her for a moment, then relaxed. He said nothing, just kept looking at his hands.

"I…" she tried again, and sighed in frustration. Every time she had a conversation with him, she always managed to lose all proper thought and words.

But of course, with him, she didn't need to say anything.

"I know," he said quietly.

He rubbed his hands together, with hers in the middle, and she felt the heat the friction caused. She leaned in a little closer.

"Are you feeling better? Has your stomach settled?" he asked.

She smiled and nodded, she did feel better, rejuvenated even.

"It's getting late, I'll see you home."

As he stood up, he squeezed her hand and waited for her to follow him. Her hand was just there, in his grasp and he didn't try to shake it off.

She wasn't going to let go either.

* * *

It was dark by the time they reached her apartment. The trains and subways had been crowded due to the festival, but as they neared their stop, the number of people began to shrink away.

They didn't say much on the train, nor during the walk up the hill to her apartment. The only thing she was thinking about was that she had been holding Mikami Teru's hand for at least thirty minutes, if not more. She tried not to grin on the train when people looked at them and the public display of affection.

No! She couldn't call it affection and jinx everything.

No! There was nothing to jinx. But oh how she wanted there to be.

It was insane, he was insane, she was insane! She couldn't believe that there was a man attached to her, no matter how weak the physical bond, and he wasn't attempting to take advantage of her. She couldn't get over it.

She was holding Mikami Teru's hand.

Her palms were sweaty by now, but she didn't care, didn't care at all as to what he thought of sweaty palms. She wasn't going to let go until absolutely necessary. Unfortunately that time was coming up.

They stood at the door to her apartment and never before had she wanted _not_ to go home. With great reluctance she broke the hold and took her hand back. The night air was cool on her palm. She tucked her arms behind her back and smiled up at Mikami.

"Well, thank you for walking me home," she said. Then she laughed.

"What's so funny?" he asked with a frown on his face. Moemi shook her head.

"I'm always thanking you."

"And that's funny?"

She laughed again and turned her head to the side, looking at the door, the ground, anything but his face. His confused face was amusing, she decided.

"It's silly," she said.

He was smiling at her, perhaps amused with her. She rocked on the heels of her feet and suppressed a chuckle.

"It's the first time I've seen you laugh," he said.

She tried to remember the last time she laughed. Perhaps it was at the beginning of the semester, when she was still friends with Yuika. It all seemed so far away.

"There hasn't been much to laugh about," she said.

"It gets better."

"I know." She remembered his words to her then and knew it to be true. She could see it now, as she moved on. There were things in her life she wanted back, but that all came in time.

There wasn't much to say after that. She was afraid to saying something ridiculous, like she always did when he was around. He just stood there, staring at her with a faint smirk on his face. There was no telling just what he was amused by and at this point she didn't care to ask.

"Well, goodnight, Mikami-san," she said and fished her key out of her jacket pocket. With one quick turn of the wrist she had the key in the knob and the door was open.

"I'll wait for you to turn on the lights and come to the window before I turn away," he said as he moved to walk back down the hill. "Goodnight, Mishima-san."

"Goodnight."

With that, he was gone. She knew he would stay true to his word and stop at the next street down, waiting for her to appear at the window.

She smiled to herself, surprised and glad for her boldness. His hands were smoother than she thought. The scars were like little ridges and mountains etching out his experiences. She still couldn't believe he held her hand for that long.

Nearly laughing at her complete giddiness, she pushed the door open further and stepped onto the genkan. It was at that moment when a cold hand came from behind and clamped over her mouth, preventing her from crying out in surprise.

* * *

Notes

1 & 2. Loan sharks. These people usually work for a gangster (yakuza) of some kind (in Japan at least) or are part of a mafia ring. They sign people up for loans, usually attaching high interest rates and all sorts of hidden fees so when it comes time to pay off the loan, some people have trouble. For those who can't pay, the loan shark will send out their "minions" to go knocking on the doors of loaners, harassing them for money. If a person still cannot pay, these guys will take anything of value to either compensate or for collateral. As a word of caution, these people are highly stylized in Japanese dramas/movies, and I've never had a run in with one, but I think it's safe to assume that they will take _anything_ to get a loan paid back. Anything.

3. Yakuza. A Japanese gangster.

As an unsolicited public service announcement, gangsters/yakuza are always stylized in movies and TV shows. It's not the best life to have or fantasize about unless you're the boss man. It would pretty much suck if you're a low ranking crony, a victim of their harassment, or a woman. I always get a little annoyed when I hear or read people saying they wish they were born in a different time, in the past when things were "better" (I'm pointing at you, _The Godfather_! Though it _is_ a good book...). If you're anyone but a white male, you wouldn't want to go back in time.

And I'll get off my soap box.

Thanks for reading, see you in the next chapter!


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